Discovery
by BRKyle
Summary: The third in the series of stories about Belinda Kyle in the GFFA. In this, she finds more about herself. Rated T for some language, adult themes, and some further problems that arise with the Dark Side.
1. Chapter 1

******DISCLAIMER:**** I own nothing of the Star Wars Universe, concept, or characters, and pay homage to the Great Flanneled one for his vast creative powers. I own the characters I have created, as far as they do not infringe upon his rights, or the rights of other writers of material in the Star Wars Universe. No copyright infringement is intended and I do not profit from this work. I'll put them back when I'm done, George, honest.**

I awoke in something of a fog, and sighed as I sat in meditation and tried to go over the previous days' events. Yesterday had _not_ been a good day overall, though there had been some less-than-awful moments. First I'd had found out that Qui-Gon had indeed been poisoned with a Sith drug to give him such horrible pain, perhaps even the one that had nearly killed me. _That _told me that whoever it was, he was still out there. Then I'd found that while I had been helping Qui-Gon that one of my dearest little Padawan friends, Obi-Wan Kenobi, had been beaten to within an inch of his life by a Zabrak boy who would one day almost certainly become Darth Maul – and the Council had _let his mother, the Matron, take him away from the Temple, most likely to the Sith._

And worse, there was nothing, absolutely nothing I could do.

I'd had something of a meltdown – maybe it was more properly what Master Bodreau had called it, a tantrum. It was hard to tell. I had drawn a severe reprimand for my behavior, and I supposed I deserved it, at least to Master Bodreau's mind. I don't know if that was why I'd gotten the Sex Ed class assignment or whether they were actually increasing my responsibility because they thought I would be a good teacher.

_Come on, Kyle -- don't be paranoid. Everyone does that class sooner or later, even Grenne said so; you were next on the list. _ And maybe I would be okay after all. What was not to like about a gaggle of pre-teen Padawans? They were for the most part sweet, well-behaved kids, who might need a bit of love. Hey, I could do that. I hoped. I guessed that teaching would necessitate some examinations of my own attitudes toward the subject, but that was to be expected from teaching anything. If I'd discovered anything in my short tenure here, it was that a teacher always learns as much as the students.

When I was finished with the class and my evenings' activities, I decided to do some more physical conditioning on the hope that I could get some sleep that way. After running myself into the ground the evening before, I was exhausted, emotionally and physically. Mercifully, the dreams had not been memorable.

I stumbled into the 'fresher when the alarm chime rang, and Slan followed me in. I was sore all over, and it took me a few moments under the water to wake up. I suppose that could be forgiven after the day I'd had yesterday. I felt better after the shower and some stretches and a kata to get the blood started and my mind centered for meditation. I had a good laugh at Slan trying to do the kata with me and falling over. I needed the laugh too.

_/Lyn feel better? / _He asked, as I scratched his belly. He was giggling too.

"I always feel better with you around, pal. Thank you. It's almost time to meet Master Bodreau for breakfast. I have a feeling it could be rough. Do you want to stay here?"

_/Come with Lyn! See Master Qui! /_

"Well, he's in Bacta now, but you can if you like. If Obi-Wan is still there, he'll be glad to see you."

So, we got some food from the Commissary and went to Master Bodreau's apartment on schedule. I was amazed that it was pretty much the normal morning meeting; he evidently felt that the reprimand the day before was sufficient. I had classes that morning, and he would remain on duty at the Infirmary that day. I learned that Obi-Wan was to be discharged after a final exam and a session with Master Shi'in. We meditated together that morning for a bit.

"Belinda, I understand you're having a problem with one of the Senior Healer Padawans, Silloq Riijs," he said, after we came out of meditation. "Master P'n'ru has spoken to me about it twice in the past few weeks."

I was surprised by the seeming change in direction our conversation had taken. I had to think about how to phrase my answer.

"Master, I believe it's something of a personality problem," I said, slowly. It was hard to admit to anyone how much the little SOB got to me. "We don't get along. I do my best to shut up and soldier when he's around, but I can't seem to please him. I have to admit, he just rubs me the wrong way, and I him, it seems. I – often behave badly in response to him, I seem to allow myself to be pulled down to his level. That shames me, and I become angry. You know that I have a temper, and I must work hard to control it. I just don't understand why he treats me the way he does," I continued, "and why he gets under my skin the way he does. I can only try to stay clear of him."

"That is difficult when you have classes in common, and you work together. He has said that you do not know your place, and are disrespectful to him."

I lowered my eyes, embarrassed. "If my place around him is to be a droid or a servant girl and kiss his – erm, boots, then no, Master. I do _not_ know my place."

He cocked a lekku at me, seemingly distressed. "Does he treat you that way, Belinda?" he asked, shocked.

"It seems like it to me, Master. I realize that may not be so in reality. I may be too sensitive to him. He knows all the buttons to push to manipulate me. I have to be less – willing to cooperate. Until I am, I am vulnerable to him, and it's a waste of energy and time."

"Ah. You will encounter people like this in your life, Padawan. Perhaps it would do you some good to do a bit of research on the world Silloq came from, and his place in it. It will give you some insight into his behavior, and perhaps into yours as well. You come from a much less stratified society than the one on Nantor. There are hereditary classes and ranks that have been static on that world for hundreds of years, and it is a peaceful and productive society, no matter what you may think of it. Suspend your judgment and evaluate him as a member of that society, a minor noble, a young man who is _not_ a warrior. And then, you must meditate on your place as Padawan for two hours, and we will discuss it in the morning."

_Two hours?_ I turned my face off and squelched a sigh. At least it wasn't another reprimand or punishment. He honestly did want me to understand Silloq better, and to know, essentially, where he got his attitude, and to cope with it in a more adult way. So did I, so this wasn't as onerous as it seemed. And he didn't say I had to do it with him, or in any sort of specific place, so I could do it when and where I wanted. That was a break. I nodded.

"Very well, Master, I will do that. And thank you – I appreciate that you believe me about how Silloq treats me. He's quite careful about when he does or says things; he's very clever. That kind of intelligence most likely serves him well in other situations, but it drives me out of my mind – I see it as dishonesty and manipulation. I know I have to learn to deal with all people, whether I like them or not. I will do my best."

He patted my hand. "I know, Belinda... Oh, there is one more thing. Master Jinn will come out of Bacta this afternoon; he is doing very well. I will attend to his hygiene, of course, but will you be willing to wash his hair? You have more experience in that field than I."

"Of course, Master, I'd be glad to – will I have to marry him…?"

He chuckled. "No, I don't think that's necessary, Padawan."

"Shucks." At that we both laughed. Master Bodreau habitually left hair care to me when it was necessary, since Twi'leks have none, anywhere. Several months before, a prince of a planet new to the Republic had been brought to the Healers after he'd been seriously wounded in a scuffle with some pirates on the way in. They'd managed to save him after some pretty fancy gyrations with Bacta and such, and, as usual, Master Bodreau had asked me to wash his hair when he came out of the bath. It was long and thick and black, and I'd found the appropriate products and done the job. It had taken considerable time.

When I had returned a bit later with his lunch, the Prince had been awake. I did him a courtesy and set his tray in front of him, averting my eyes from his face as I had been instructed.

"Did I gather correctly from Master Bodreau, that you did my hair?"

"Yes, Your Highness. I hope it is to your liking." I had an uneasy feeling… I could sense him surveying me possessively. I felt like the main dish at dinner.

"Yes, as are you. Quite a royal gift from the Jedi. I did not expect such."

_**Gift**__**? **__ Uh-oh… _"Your Highness?" I recall wondering why I wasn't squeaking like a rusty hinge. _This is **not **good._

"You may look upon me, Belinda," he said. He took my hand and with the other lifted my chin to look me over carefully, probably examining my teeth. He was actually quite a handsome man in a primitive way; even primitive to _me._ He put me in mind of – oh, who was it, I was forgetting – the guy who played Wolverine, Hugh Jackman. Certainly he was no strain on the eyes. "I will be leaving this place today. Be ready to attend me, wife."

_**Wife? **__Oh, __**no**__, oh, bad…_ I was suddenly short of breath. I put on a poker face, and thought fast, thanking Qui-Gon for the thousandth time for teaching me to center quickly.

"Allow me to speak with my Master, and inform him of your plans, milord," I'd replied, managing not to stutter somehow. "I must – take my leave of him." _Or figure out something really fast… how do I get __**into**__ these things? _

"Very well," he replied expansively. "I will expect you shortly." He smiled suggestively. "I am looking forward to this night."

_Yeah, dream on, pal. You're not __**that**__ good-looking… _

I did him another courtesy and backed out, then took off down the hall to Master Bodreau's office, only to find Master Windu with him, just out of Bacta and healing trance after the mission that had brought us the Prince. He was conversing animatedly with Master Bodreau and they both seemed quite disturbed.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, Masters, but –"

"No, Padawan, you were the subject of the conversation. It seems I owe you a deep apology. We did not know of this culture's – marriage customs."

"I guess we didn't," I said. "I hope this doesn't happen often."

"It is almost unheard of," Master Windu replied, seemingly more than a bit flustered. I'd never seen him even mildly perturbed. "I am _very _sorry, Belinda. I had not transmitted my report when I was injured."

"That explains it. It would be rather hard to give the information when you're flat on your back in Bacta, Master Windu. This is a rather sticky situation, though," I replied. "It's nice to be appreciated and all, but this guy just isn't my type."

"I can imagine," Master Bodreau said, dryly. "I will speak with him."

"As will I," Master Windu said, smiling grimly.

I sighed. I could feel the testosterone level in the room rising. _Damn. We just got the guy __**fixed, **__for the love of the Force. Are we going to mess him up again?_

Either one of the men could take the Prince apart without breaking a sweat. However, my job right now was to lay low and keep my mouth _shut_, as the look from Master Bodreau plainly said. _Let the big boys handle it. _ I did. Never let it be said that I wasn't a quick study.

The monitor was still set to the Prince's suite when I looked at it, and I was quickly treated to a demonstration of the Jedi Mind Trick gone _**very wrong**_**.**

The Prince leapt out of bed with a roar, and went to attack them with the (wickedly sharp) ceremonial knife at his bedside table. Faster than I could gasp, Master Bodreau had one shoulder and Windu had the knife in one hand and the Prince's other shoulder in the other, and had kicked the Prince's feet out from under him to shove him back onto the bed. Master Bodreau put a hand on the Prince's head and upped the power on the Mind Trick.

"_**Relax**__,"_ he said. The Prince stopped struggling and fell asleep.

"My," Master Bodreau said mildly, looking over at Mace. "That didn't go well at all."

"No," Mace replied. "He is Force-Sensitive to some extent. It runs in the ruling family."

"Ah. That does complicate things a bit." That's my Master of Understatement. If it hadn't been for the fact that I was the stakes, it would have been hilarious. As it was I had to stifle a snort for fear that the transmitter was on as well.

Things actually went downhill from that for a short time, with the Prince, upon awakening, demanding an immediate duel of honor with Master Windu. Master Windu accepted – with the proviso that the duel would be to first blood or until the other yielded. That seemed to mollify the Prince. I'm sure Master Windu figured he could take the Prince down without injuring him. Otherwise, there was no negotiating with the guy, he was as stubborn as a mule. He was determined to take me with him for his harem.

Mace, of course, won the duel handily with what looked to be a bastard sword, especially fitted with a force shield to prevent serious injury. He wasn't even breathing hard. Then the Prince collapsed again, and we found out what had been the matter all along – one of the painkillers we had used had a marked and long lasting hallucinogenic effect on their race, and he was evidently a bit unstable to begin with. When we finally got the poor fellow back on the right track, he was most embarrassed, and apologized quite extravagantly to both Master Windu and myself. Determined to learn from the general snafu, I had asked for some catch-up tutoring on cultural matters. That was when I had started the lessons with Master Dooku.

So, after my classes were over, I went down to Stores and got the equivalent of a shampoo kit for Qui-Gon. I put some conditioner in too, because even though Bacta was evidently good for hair, it was hell to get out. Mine was certainly growing quickly, though. I had to admit, I loved Qui-Gon's hair. It was gorgeous, almost a surprise on such a big, imposing man. Washing it wouldn't be a chore. I would definitely enjoy it, as a matter of fact.

When I got to the Infirmary, Obi-Wan was in an examining room being checked out. I waited outside and when he came out I was tackled, as he threw his arms around my waist with a shining smile. "Lyn! I feel much better now. I'm going to talk with Master Shi'in."

"Wonderful, Obi-Wan," I said, dropping to sit on my heels. I hugged him and kissed his cheek. "You were very brave and wise. You'll be a wonderful Knight someday, all you have to do is remember that, and to listen to what the Force tells you. You should be proud."

He colored a bit, shyly. I smiled at him. "Thank you," he said. "And thank you for helping me… what is that?"

"Oh, that's a shampoo kit for Master Jinn. He just got out of Bacta, and I have to wash his hair so it isn't all sticky and yucky. Master Bodreau doesn't have hair, so I handle that, mostly."

"I see. You really like Master Jinn, don't you?"

"I really do," I said. "I admire him, and he's been very, very kind to me. He saved my life many times."

"He's a Jedi, he does things like that."

"Of course. But he's my friend, too. He's a very good friend."

He nodded. "Good. I'll see you later, maybe."

"Of course, Obi-Wan. You don't want to be late. Have fun with Master Shi'in."

"I will! 'Bye!" He careened off. He looked comfortable and flexible again, like a normal child, and more exuberant than he'd seemed for a while. That was a relief. Master Shi'in was reputedly wonderful with children; I hoped that she could help with the trauma. She'd certainly done well with me.

I went to Qui-Gon's new room and found him resting in trance, seemingly calm. He wore a blank expression instead of his usual peaceful one. I wondered if that was a side effect of the medication, and resolved to keep an eye on him. With the help of the lift droid (_gotta love lift droids… _), I got him maneuvered to the end of the bed and filled the basin with water.

It was a horrible mess. The sticky stuff had dried and clumped his hair together like bad hair gel, with the awful smell clinging to it as well. It took repeated rinsing with the solvent just to get most of it out of his hair, and then I had to wash the rest of the dirt, gunk, and nameless other things from the heavy thick strands. I gently massaged his head, neck, and scalp as I did it, following my senses to work out the stiffness and knots as I ran my fingers over the tight spots. I found it very pleasant just to touch him, and hopefully give him some comfort. As I worked, I hummed the tune to an old bawdy folksong I knew. I finally was able to comb the conditioner through his hair, rinse once again until the water ran clear, and put his hair in a braid so it wouldn't tangle. Now he didn't smell like Bacta anymore, and he felt better too, as far as I could tell. I took the readings and brought them to Master Bodreau.

"Very good," he said.

"I need to go to self-defense class soon. Is there anything else, Master?"

"No, Padawan, that will do."

"Thank you, sir."

So I went to get beaten on at self-defense. On the way, Silloq saw me with my bag over my shoulder, returning the shampoo kit for recycling.

"Ah, Kyle, there you are. Now I know why Bodreau chose you as a Padawan, it's puzzled me all year. Finally found a job fit for you, eh? Five hundred more hours and you can be an apprentice hairdresser on Nantor… if you can pass the exam. Well, you can always be a Licensed Escort if not. No _written _tests there, and I'll put in a good word for you – for a price." He made a rude gesture.

Lort and Grenne laughed loudly, putting a brave front on what seemed to make them uncomfortable. It was farther than he'd ever gone before, downright insulting to both me _and_ my Master. I had to count to _twenty_ in _four_ languages, and still couldn't swallow my reply. At least I didn't slug him.

"Certainly, your Grace," I said, sketching a bow and salaam. He was a Royal of Nantor, and didn't hesitate to let me know that he considered me lower than a snake's navel in comparison. He was, however, a very _minor_ Royal, and didn't like that fact mentioned. "Shall I make an appointment? You'll have to wash _your_ hair before coronation."

He turned crimson with an angry flush that radiated the heat of anger for a foot around him, and the Padawan behind the counter snorted. Silloq's hair invariably looked lank, stringy, and dirty. It was smelly and we all assumed it was just a custom of his planet, because the pomade had a stench all its own. Rumor had it, though, that he used the stinky stuff to avoid losing his hair. His hairline looked like male pattern baldness would win the battle soon, so I wondered if it might be so.

_Damn my temper, anyway. He got me. __**Damn! **__That was childish. No __**wonder**__ Master Bodreau wanted me to meditate on my place. He's a senior Padawan and I'm not. I have to at least __**act **__like I respect him, and be civil. If he's a jerk, he can be a jerk without my help. _I was ashamed of myself. I escaped as fast as I decently could, and went to my self-defense class, using every exercise I knew to calm myself on the way.

I'd moved from the six-year-olds to taking class with Padawans in their early teens, learning what looked a lot like aikido to my inexperienced eye. They still whomped me on a regular basis, but I was learning to hold my own. And I could always use a dirty trick when needed. That was not only allowed, but actually encouraged. The instruction rotated throughout the Masters and Knights who were present at the Temple. Now, it was Master Windu, and he was a good teacher. He was the one who encouraged dirty tricks, and taught us how to counter them as well. I actually liked it, it was fun to see Mace and the class itself was enjoyable in a rather masochistic way. Today I beat up a practice droid rather thoroughly, imagining it to be Silloq. I had to stop; it wasn't helping at all but making it worse.

"Padawan?" Master Windu asked. "Are you all right?"

"I'm sorry, Master, I have anger to release, and the droid has about had it." I sighed. "I still need a lot of work on my temper."

He nodded. "I see. We all have our challenges, Belinda," he said gently. "Do as you must."

"Thank you, Master Windu." I was able to come back to the class after ten minutes of meditation, but I was disturbed that I had been so angry with Silloq. He wasn't worth it.

Master Windu took me aside as I came from the shower and changing room after class was over. I almost expected a rebuke, but was startled at the question.

"How is Qui-Gon?" he asked. I wondered how he got his information, but I knew that he and Qui-Gon were friends. Of course he'd be concerned. _Duh… Get over yourself, Kyle._

"He came out of Bacta today, Master – I believe he is still in trance. He's on the mend."

"Good to hear. I've heard you did well."

I shrugged. After that afternoon's display and my temper in class, I didn't _feel_ like I was doing well.

"I had to. I'm glad it worked out. You know how it is, Master. How's Jax?"

He smiled. "He's growing like a weed, it's amazing. They grow up so fast. He's doing very well in lightsabre drills. Perhaps I can have Qui-Gon teach him a few things if he's to be here for a while. It's a good thing to learn from different sword masters, and Qui-Gon is the best."

"You do quite well, Master, at least with a longsword. No slouch, certainly."

"And how have your studies progressed?" He asked, smiling.

"I don't think I'm liable to cause an interstellar incident anymore," I replied, with a sigh. _At least as long as I can keep a lid on my temper, anyway… _ "And the Prince stopped apologizing a month and a half ago."

He chuckled. "Oh, dear, he took that long?"

"I got a very nice message once a week for that time, yes, and some lovely gifts as well. Didn't you? I believe it was his first-wife that made him send them. I certainly wouldn't want to be on the wrong side of _that_ woman."

"Indeed not. She's intimidating."

"To _you?_ Now, _that's_ impressive. Well, Master, I'll give your regards to Master Jinn when he wakes up, perhaps you could come to see him."

"I will certainly do that. Take care, Belinda. May the Force be with you."

I bowed. "And with you, Master. Good day."

_Well, couldn't put it off anymore. I had been assigned research and a meditation on my place as a Padawan, and I had to do it, now._ _I'd promised._ I got a quick bite to eat and went to the office to find Slan playing with the comm.

"Hey, buddy, did you have dinner?"

_/Master Bodreau fed me Qualla fruit! It was yummy! /_

"Sounds good to me. I brought you a nut butter sandwich, too, would you like it?"

He grinned and snatched it away from me when I offered. So help me, I didn't know where he put it. I got him some milk and called up some material on the comm about Nantor, making sure to get visuals and sociological information as well.

It was fascinating. Over eleven hundred years before, Nantor had been in the midst of violent religious, class-based, and cultural civil wars, and had then been targeted for invasion by an insectoid race that reminded me of the bugs in _Starship Troopers. _One of the factions had been somewhat wiser than the others, and had figured out that the invader race posed a far greater threat to the planet than the internecine warfare. With help from some very resourceful Jedi who were sent to aid the planet, this faction leader, an ancestor of Silloq's, had managed to ally the feuding clans under his rule. Rather like the Afghanis, they decided that they'd work together against an invading outsider. Unlike the Afghanis, the people decided that after a few decades of unified effort which lifted their culture from barely spacefaring to extremely advanced, strong, and efficient, they'd keep the unified government and work out the bumps as well as they could. I had to assume that the decision was helped along by the Jedi in charge of the mission, one Mical Onasi by name.

Because of the length of the war and the great number of casualties, clones had been employed as soldiers and other functionaries. After the war they were unwelcome in society, and they'd become a traveling people, somewhat like the Romany who were among my ancestors. They formed an underclass as they were released from service, and some were more de-programmable than others. Often the Vagabonds had been violent and without manners or morals. Most of them were not fertile, but the ones who were bred without regard for custom or morality – and there were clones made specifically _for_ breeding, where women of the upper classes were rendered infertile by nuclear, biological, or chemical weapons, or mere convenience. One might think of it as the ultimate wet nurse.

Put all this in a time frame similar to the gap between when the time the Silk Road was opened to bring Eastern spices and the Romany to the primitive medieval culture of Europe, to the twenty-first century. This was documented history, films and other media survived of the founding family, which would in due time spawn Silloq as something of an afterthought.

The culture was odd, almost unnatural to my eye. Even though the danger was almost gone from the poisons in the environment left by the ancient wars, it was still often the case that the wealthy left reproduction to clones, and raised the children themselves. After they'd given birth to the required number of children, the clones were often put to death in a perfectly legal manner, except for the few lucky ones who were sold as servants or used as sex workers. Some escaped and formed the nucleus of the current Vagabond culture, outcasts who lived in the shadows and in the large areas of the planet still thought poisoned, haunted, and polluted by the wars. There they often farmed and lead peaceful and productive lives; there was even record of one or two Force Sensitives found in the "wastes". (No doubt that had burned _some _noble's rear end...) Vagabonds who were caught in or near "civilized areas" were used in forced labor (read "concentration") camps, essentially imprisoned and enslaved.

Silloq's family still ruled the planet. They were incredibly wealthy, and very occasionally one of them showed talent in the Force, though none had enough talent to be Jedi, and they refused to send their children to be in the Agri-Corps. The theory was that the genetic damage from the ancient conflicts had greatly attenuated Force-Sensitivity. That made Silloq a sport of sorts. He had talent in the Force that might have made him a Jedi if he'd been identified early enough.

He was technically a bastard son, which made him half-caste as well, though his mother's family was wealthy. When he had been identified as being strong in the Force, his wayward father had promptly adopted him. This had caused some considerable trouble with his father's wife, who didn't fancy having another woman's son preferred to her own children. Even though the environment was much friendlier here, he was something of a fish out of water. He had done his best to adapt to the egalitarian society of the Jedi, but I guessed that even that had its limit.

Of course, the family history was larger than life, larger than anyone could be. They were tall, handsome men and lovely women; genetic engineering and other cosmetic techniques saw to that. Silloq was short and quite homely, mostly from the frowning bitterness that often marred his face. Finally I understood his low self-esteem. For a start, in his family men _never _lost their hair; it turned white, almost overnight, when they hit the century mark or so. I suspected that _that _transition was often chemically assisted. Men were warriors; it was the _women _who healed if there were any talented ones. It was a harsh, strictly stratified society, where centuries of peace, prosperity and custom had made their class structure as solid as the stone that built their cities, almost medieval in its static nature.

If Silloq had been anything other than talented in the Force, he would have been ignored, unacknowledged and next to unmarriageable… which was a harsh thing at best for that culture, where bloodlines were all. Many younger or illegitimate sons went off-planet to find wives and fortune. Perhaps he would have had to as well, and might have been happier for it. So here he was, a bastard son who was in a lower caste position, deserted and alone in the Jedi Temple because they wouldn't allow him to live in the way to which he felt entitled. Along comes a _woman_ who is _proud_ to be the descendant of Traveling people, who has aptitude in areas where he doesn't, and moves up in the ranks twice or three times as quickly as he can because she's had prior training and some talent. He was nearly 30, and had been in the Temple since he was 17. He'd never been considered for Jedi training because of his age, and since his family wouldn't accept Agri-Corps training no matter how useful his skill would be on his world, he had gone to the Healers.

This was Silloq's breeding ground. He had been taught to see women as property, a means to reproduction. In his caste, men and women didn't even usually live together when married, but stayed in their family Houses. The whole thing was scary. He saw people like me as a threat to him, to his way of life. _That could ruin your whole day. _

This did not make me like him much more than I did, even so. Why was he still in the Temple at all if he was that miserable? I knew that nobody _had _to like me, and I also knew that it was inevitable that some would not, and that I wouldn't like everyone either. What bothered me, though, was that it wasn't even honest dislike that he showed – he was _sneaky. _He never harassed me or teased me when other Masters were there. As a matter of fact, his worst displays of temper and cruelty were when we were alone, a situation that I now avoided as much as I could. I despised liars, and he was an expert.

He did have talent and a heart, though; I'd seen him smile with joy when he eased the suffering of a baby withdrawing from his mother's addiction to Zonko, a street drug on the lower levels that seemed to be a cross between the painkilling of heroin and the stimulation of cocaine, but that suspended all judgment and thought. There was good and kindness in him, just, seemingly, not for me. I'd had to work to get past that and see the precious soul beneath – and now, even if I had a bit of understanding of his situation, it seemed I'd have to work harder.

_Well, didn't that help? Not much, really, but it did give me a lot to think about. That would have to do. Let's get to it._

"Hey, buddy," I said to Slan, "do you want to come with me to the garden to meditate? Maybe we can sit in the tree."

_/Sit in the tree? Sure! /_ He loved to do that, so he scrambled onto my shoulder.

The tree was an old one, with many low, comfortable branches. She was friendly and the Living Force was strong in her. I found sitting in a crook of one of her branches to be comforting when life had been trying, and she was kind enough to welcome me when I came to visit her. She reminded me of a tree in Quantico I'd loved as a small child. She didn't seem to mind that, nor the fact that not many of the Padawans sensed her the same way I did.

Sure enough, the garden was empty at this hour. I climbed up to my favorite perch, and Slan with me, and we thanked her for her hospitality before we started our contemplation. I figured it was only polite. I set my inner timer to remember when I had to leave for the evening, and settled into meditation. Releasing the feelings that had come up since the night before felt good. I hoped to find a reason for all this chaos.

Why did Silloq treat me this way? I wouldn't talk to a _criminal _ the way he addressed me. I asked the question and opened myself for some sort of answer. If it had worked for Obi-Wan, perhaps the Force would favor me with an answer as well. When it came, I was flabbergasted.

_It was my very __**existence**__ that offended him. The mere fact that I was alive, that I was there, angered him._

_**What!? **_With an effort, I brought myself back to center and opened myself to calm. This guy was a neurotic mess. _Why_ did my existence offend him? Maybe it was the way I looked, my attitude. Well, I supposed it was inevitable that it happened occasionally, and he did do well with children. Perhaps I'd have to keep an eye on Junie. She didn't have much use for the creep, but who knows what he might try. I'd seen him looking at her like a wolf on a lamb, more than once. Luckily, she was pretty strong-willed. Probably why we got along so well, we both knew what we wanted. I snorted at the overblown speculations. Junie was most likely more capable of defending herself than I was. _I was distracting myself rather than dealing with the problem at hand. Score one for the monkey mind_. Back to the drawing board. I was still missing something, some pieces of information I needed to understand this situation. It was maddening.

_Don't get paranoid, Kyle, _I thought. _But then again, even paranoids have enemies… _

I was so disturbed by the speculations, however wild, that I had to pull out the big guns to release my anger. I got down off the tree, thanked her, and went to a column of the garden's dome, and gently put my hands against the smooth stone, and bowed my head in the beginning of the Arch of Peace meditation. Qui-Gon had taught it to me one day when I had been especially trying to him, and he'd probably needed it himself. Always it had worked when every other method failed, and now I could set my concerns for myself and for Junie aside as I slowly partook of the calm and peace of the meditation, and was able to give up my disgust, anger, and indignation to the river of peace flowing all around. It felt good to just _be,_ restful. It made up for a lot of lost sleep and upset.

I had been at it for an hour or so when I sensed distress from a very strange quarter – Qui-Gon. At the same time, Slan poked my neck with his cold damp nose and started making little mewling, peeping noises like an upset kitten, and I came back to reality abruptly.

_/Master Qui, something wrong… /_

"Yeah, I can feel it too, buddy. Let's go see."

Since speed seemed to be needed, I took off at a dead flat run toward the Healer's Wing, Slan clutching my tunics with a death grip. He was a heavier load than he used to be. I sent a message to Master Bodreau along our bond, praying he wouldn't be asleep or otherwise occupied. Thankfully, I could feel his response and concern. He'd be on his way.

_/Go fast, go fast! / _Didn't know Slan was such a speed demon. When I got to the Infirmary, I found out why. Qui-Gon was up and dressed, but deadly pale and looking not at all himself, and holding his activated lightsabre, which threw a poison green light in the dimness of the lobby of the clinic.

I could sense that he was disoriented and confused -- _What could do that to a Jedi? _ I wondered again. I planted myself in front of him; arms folded across my chest, I gave him my very best '**don't mess with the head-nurse'** glare.

"Master Jinn, may I ask where you're going?"

The senior Padawans who were in charge, Silloq and Lort, were quailing in the corners, wondering what to do. I'm sure they weren't happy that I saw them, especially Silloq – but hey, _I'd_ sure be cowering if someone like Qui-Gon brandished a lightsabre at _me_. I might be toast myself, but I was trusting him to recognize me and relax his vigilance for long enough to be coaxed back to bed for some rest, which he most desperately needed. I sent another, more desperate message along my link to Master Bodreau, and even tried one to Master Dooku on the off chance that he might respond to his Padawan's distress.

Qui-Gon focused on me with difficulty, and smiled a bit as he powered down his lightsabre. "Belinda. I am called – called to Council. I must go."

I stepped forward. "Certainly, Master Jinn. But I am sure that they can consider another matter until Master Bodreau clears you to leave the Infirmary. He'll be here shortly."

"Padawan, I must –"

I took his hand, and finally managed to make the connection I was striving for. Perhaps now he would hear me.

_Qui-Gon, it's me, Lyn. You're still sick, love; you need to heal. Stay with us, now. The rest is a bad dream. You must rest and be well. _He was swaying now, still confused and not thinking clearly, trying to push the fog away.

Then I felt the other presence arrive behind me, and heard the soft, silky voice of Master Dooku, full of deep affection. I suddenly had tears of relief in my eyes. _He'd listen to his Master. Thank the gods and all the stars, and the Force, too._

"Belinda is right, my dear Padawan. This is delirium. Leave it, and be with us now."

I could feel that the words were not the force of his communication, and knew now why Master Dooku was so highly esteemed as a negotiator and keeper of the peace. I could feel his love for Qui-Gon in the words and see it in the smile that gentled the severe planes of his face in such a startling way. He reached his hand out, and suddenly Qui-Gon looked very young and very vulnerable.

"Master?" he asked softly.

"Yes, it is I," he said, gently taking Qui-Gon's other hand and deactivating the 'sabre. "Be at peace, Qui-Gon. Heal and be well."

Qui-Gon swayed once more and then he fainted into my arms. I held him close for a moment and staggered before I could call the Force to aid me – even as thin as he was he weighed close to ninety kilos – and Master Dooku got a shoulder up under him. I took the other one and we marched him back to bed.

"Do you often have this effect on men, Belinda?" Master Dooku asked, smiling.

I rolled my eyes. "It's a gift," I replied, as I helped lay Qui-Gon down and began to pull his boots off. At that, he laughed, looking as relieved as I felt.

"We'll have to inform the Council, then," he replied. "Seriously – you've done well, Padawan. I was afraid he'd do himself or someone else injury."

"So was I, Master. Thank you, I couldn't have done that without your help."

"Perhaps not yet," he said, "but soon enough. You've learned much."

"And people keep telling me I'm working too hard." I sighed, and smoothed the loose wisps of Qui-Gon's hair back from his face. "Thanks, Master Dooku. I wonder what could have made him so confused?"

"It is a late effect of the drug," Master Dooku said. "It acts upon the kinesthetic sense."

_Yes, that makes all kinds of sense. _"That would be very confusing, then," I said, "especially to someone like Qui-Gon. He's always so – there. Grounded. I know, I'm not making sense."

"No, it makes excellent sense, Belinda. His connection to the Force is impeded by these feelings of disorientation. It will take concentration to overcome them."

"Can we help him, or is this just a matter of time?"

"Master Bodreau has been working on it. I'm sure he will have something when he arrives."

I nodded, doing my best to make Qui-Gon comfortable. He was shivering, now looking shocky. He began to be restless as I went to get him another coverlet or two from a warmer to wrap around the elegant feet and legs that were, as usual, longer than the bedding, and I could feel his disorientation again. I hurried back and swaddled the warm soft material over his lower body and took his hand again, and sat next to him.

_Hang on to me, if you like, Qui-Gon. I'm here, so is Master Dooku. Stay with us, you'll be all right._

He relaxed at that, but would not turn loose my hand. It must have helped to know where he ended and someone else began. Master Bodreau came in about then, and took in the scene. He smiled and nodded as Slan clambered off my shoulder and onto Qui-Gon's neck, and snuggled, purring loudly.

Master Bodreau did indeed have a treatment in mind, and administered it after conferring with Master Dooku for a few moments. I stayed with Qui-Gon because I felt the distress when I moved away.

"Looks like you're elected to stay with him, Padawan," Master Bodreau said. "He'll rest soon, you can leave when he settles."

"Yes, Master," I said. "I'll stay here as long as he needs me."

That was a foregone conclusion.


	2. Chapter 2

******DISCLAIMER:**** I own nothing of the Star Wars Universe, concept, or characters, and pay homage to the Great Flanneled one for his vast creative powers. I own the characters I have created, as far as they do not infringe upon his rights, or the rights of other writers of material in the Star Wars Universe. No copyright infringement is intended and I do not profit from this work. I'll put them back when I'm done, George, honest.**

Qui-Gon had still been disturbed for several hours after we'd gotten him back to bed, so I stayed with him, holding him with us with the bond that could not be broken. At times the connection seemed frail, like he was only bound lightly to us, even to his body. It was almost frightening. I held his hand, talked to him, even sang a little as he slowly calmed down and was able to rest. It was no hardship. I just held on to him as he moved in and out of the here and now, as he fought for equanimity, desperately striving for stillness. I dozed on and off over the night, meditated some to keep myself clear and peaceful so he would have an anchor. I just plain loved him when I couldn't think of anything else, and that turned out to be what worked the best of all. He found the way, with no help except the touch of my hands and my voice, and whatever it was that drew us together.

_Could it be that the secret is so very simple? Love. What the Jedi don't want to allow or acknowledge, but the Sith cannot comprehend. Love, that came from me, from Master Dooku, even from Slan – but from the Force as well, bigger than any of us. Is love the final factor that can separate and save the Orders? Can we ever hope to make the Jedi understand? _

Not bad for middle of the night speculation. People love, and sometimes that's the best part of them, but it can easily turn into the worst if they aren't very careful.

More than once during the night, Silloq looked in on us. He didn't say anything, but looked at us with an impenetrable expression. I ignored him the first time, but then met his eyes when he came back. I'd been less shielded, trying to stay in touch with Qui-Gon, and by that garnered another missing piece of this nearly incomprehensible puzzle. _He was in love with Qui-Gon too_.

He left quickly, and I took the fact in for a bit. _You're an idiot, Kyle. Of course, that would make him bitter – he would be, under the circumstances. _I recalled a conversation on the island, it seemed a lifetime ago.

"_I am not a lover of men,"_ Qui-Gon had said, and I knew even then that there was something behind the statement, something that even if it was healed, was a wound nonetheless, from long ago. He'd stated it as a fact, almost as a deficiency in himself. I had wondered then what it was, but knew it would be presumptuous of me to ask. He would tell me if he felt comfortable enough, or if it were necessary, but I would never pry. I stroked the hand I held.

"If there is hurt, let me help you, let me heal it," I said softly. "Let me help, the way you have always helped me."

When Qui-Gon opened his eyes in the morning I saw that they were clear and aware, and even a trifle embarrassed – but he still held my hand.

"Feeling better?" I asked.

"Much," he said. "Thank you."

"You're most welcome," I said. "You had us pretty worried, I'm glad you've come back to us in one piece. Is there anything I can get you? You must be very hungry."

He smiled. "I am," he said.

"I'll get you something to eat, then. Is there anything you'd especially like?"

"Something sweet, perhaps."

"I'll be back in a few moments," I replied.

"I won't go anywhere this time," he said, smiling a bit more.

"Good thinking."

I brought Qui-Gon some fruit, a thick, hearty hot cereal with nuts, fruit and grains, bread, jam, cheese, juice, and tea. As I brought it, Master Bodreau called me to report on his condition, but Qui-Gon touched my hand before I left. The little sparkle of joy made me smile.

"Let me know if you need anything else. I should be around."

"Of course," he said.

I took the readings to Master Bodreau, carefully doing my best to stay with my tasks, my job. It was not easy to maintain a balance, again showing me why it was accepted wisdom in the Order that such emotional attachment was perilous. Yet I knew that this was my path; even though it was a treacherous road it was the only one I could follow. It felt now like I walked a tightrope. I suddenly wished I had an umbrella to balance myself. _Sleep deprivation, Kyle. You're dizzier than usual._

"Is Master Jinn feeling better?" Master Bodreau asked.

"Yes, he is doing well," I replied. "Here are the readings for you, Master. He was hungry, so I brought him something to eat."

"Excellent, he's far too thin now to suit me," he said. "Padawan, I have meant to mention to you that the Solstice Fete is approaching quickly."

"Oh?" I asked. I did my best to look uninterested – and unfazed. I'd managed to dodge the last one by helping out with the babies and pleading a need for time to study. From the look on Master Bodreau's face now, I concluded that the same excuse wouldn't work this time. "I was thinking that I could help with the young ones again, Master."

"Hoping, rather," he said, with a twinkle in his eye.

"Well, yes," I admitted sheepishly. "Will it make any difference if I say that I don't know how to dance?"

"That won't do, Belinda," he said, seriously.

"Sir?" I asked.

"Even Healers are needed in the field at times, and this is required training for any Padawan. You must overcome your hesitation to interact with the other residents of the Temple, and 'let your hair down' a bit, as you Humans say. If you don't watch out, you might even enjoy yourself."

"Master, I just feel like I can't spare the time, honestly. I have so much to learn, so much studying to do. At least with the little ones, I was useful."

"What makes you think that your presence at the Fete will not be useful? You will meet more of the people here at the Temple; perhaps find a few more friends. You will learn to dance and correct behavior at a formal function. These are necessary things for any member of the Order."

"Of course, Master," I said. Now that he put it that way, it made a lot more sense. I just didn't like the idea. "I do have one question, though. What does one wear to such an event?"

"Jedi Knights and Padawans wear formal robes. I encourage civilian dress for Padawans and Healers from my section; it is useful to own such garments, and formal robes do not flatter all."

"Well, then, Master, if I may resort to a cliché, I haven't a thing to wear. I've no idea where I would acquire civilian clothing, or formal robes."

"That has been brought to my attention, Belinda. Fortunately, your friends Junie, Aayla, and Maru have offered to escort you on a shopping trip to remedy the gaps in your wardrobe. They should be able to keep you in order."

I chuckled with him. "Oh, dear. Coruscant may never be the same. Well, Master, when is this expedition set to occur?"

"Today, Padawan. In fact, they will be here shortly. Are you finished with your report for the morning?"

"Yes, Master, it's on your datapadd along with Master Jinn's readings."

"Excellent. Well, then, Belinda, here's the credit chip with your stipend balance. Don't spend it all in one place." He smiled at me.

"Gosh, you're no fun, Master," I said, twigging him right back. I plugged it in to my datapadd and raised an eyebrow at the amount – I guess I _didn't_ spend much. Other than the odd book or gift, there was little I needed or wanted. Quite a change, I reflected, from my days of credit cards. I liked it. "May I let Master Jinn know I'll be going? I told him that I would be around here this afternoon."

"Certainly," he replied. "I will let the young women know where you are if they arrive."

"Thank you, Master. I'll freshen up and be back shortly."

I went to the 'fresher and spruced up – at least, showered and changed quickly so I didn't _look_ like I'd been sleeping in my clothing – washed my face, ran a comb through my hair and unfrizzed it. That was it, and I was done. No jelly stains on the tunic, and Slan was still keeping Qui-Gon company. Maybe he'd want to stay. I'd ask him. When I went back to the bay, Qui-Gon had made quick and thorough work of the large breakfast I'd brought him. Slan was sprawled adoringly on his lap, being thoroughly scratched behind the ears. I could hear the purring from across the room.

"Tough job you have there, Slan... Master Jinn, there's been something of a change in plans. My Master informs me that I'm going shopping this afternoon."

"Really?" he asked, looking nonplussed.

"Yes. I'm to buy clothing for the Solstice Fete. Guess I can't get out of it this time."

"Get out of it? I'd think you'd enjoy it."

"Maybe I will," I said. "Despite myself. I'm not much of a party animal, though, and I have _so_ much to catch up with – I'm not sure if it's worth it, but Master Bodreau seems to think I spend too much time studying."

"He is most likely correct," he said. "Working hard is a good thing, Belinda, but there is such thing as overdoing."

I sighed. "Busted again," I said. He chuckled.

"Enjoy yourself," he said. "You are going with your friends?"

"Yes," I said. "Hopefully they can tell me if I choose something too outlandish. I'm still pretty inexperienced with this Republic fashion stuff… Have you met Aayla yet?"

"Indeed, I have. Hello, ladies. You will excuse me if I do not rise?"

Junie colored a bit and they all bowed. "Good morning, Master Jinn. How are you feeling?" she asked.

"Much better, now. I understand you're bundling Belinda off to shop for clothes." He smiled a bit, seemingly bemused at the assortment – a human teenager, a Chadra-fan young adult, and a Twi'lek senior Jedi Padawan.

"Yes, Master Jinn," Aayla said. "We're to see that she actually buys some."

"They don't let me out much, you know," I said, grinning. "I have a tendency to play tourist instead of accomplishing the errand at hand. Come along, let's leave Master Jinn to rest – unless you'd like something more to eat?"

"Not right now, thank you," he said, smiling.

"Slan, would you like to come or stay with Master Jinn?"

_/Stay with Master Qui! /_ Was the immediate response. I grinned.

"Seems you rate, Master. Enjoy the peace and quiet." For a moment I ached to touch him, to take his hand, and I could read a quick shadow of that in his eyes as well, but it would not have been proper – not to mention starting gossip at faster-than-light speed.

_Don't be an idiot, Kyle, you're mooning like a lovesick teenybopper. Get over it._

"With Slan? Surely you're having me on. Enjoy your expedition, Padawan."

I chuckled and put on my cloak. We all bowed, and off we went.

The air was clear and crisp, and cold enough for me to be glad of the heavy cloak. I played tourist again as we got a public transport to the shopping district of the Capital City. We were, as it turned out, first to pick up some jewelry for Aayla, and then to meet Aayla's Master for lunch. After that, we would go to a favored place to shop, an out of the way place that carried nice quality for less money than the hoi polloi would pay. That certainly appealed to my cheapskate nature.

I looked on my datapadd and found that Master Bodreau had included my measurement data and a list of things that I had to buy, including regular civilian clothing, various accessories, shoes, and even cosmetics. I wondered if he had something in mind… the clothing was to be charged to the Temple. _Why had he given me my stipend, then?_ Probably he wanted me to be able to buy things if I wanted them. His hunches were as good as most folks' facts, so I didn't think much of it.

The jewelry shop was wonderful. There were lovely creations in all manner of precious metals for any species you could name, and a few I couldn't figure out. Then I had a sudden idea, and approached the clerk droid.

"Would you have a fine gold chain about fifty to seventy centimeters in length that I might purchase?" I asked.

"Why, certainly. Would you like to see our selection?"

"I'm looking for something simple, actually… yes, this one will do nicely." I selected a delicate, lacy one. Now I would have a chain on which to wear my locket. It was the only piece of jewelry I'd managed to save, one of the only ones I owned. I was amazed at how much that meant to me. I handed over the credit chip and he wrapped the chain and I tucked it into my belt pouch. _Bad habit, that was, to be right all the time. I'd have to have a talk with Master Bodreau._

Master Ban'p'rai was a small, delicately-boned female who at first seemed a sallow color. Where one would expect hair, she had fine tawny feathers, shining in the weak sunlight of a winter day, and on a second look, her face was covered with lighter feathers as well. Large golden eyes and a beak dominated her face. She had _six_ fingers on each hand, and they seemed curved a bit differently from the human hand and were tipped with claws. She spoke with a voder. She was a Ku'k'ree, a race I'd recently studied. I'd never seen one, and she was most lovely and graceful.

We bowed as Aayla introduced us, and she smiled. As she returned the reverence, I saw a bulge in the back of her robe – she had _wings. _Only some of her race had them. I wondered if they were functional.

"Yes, Padawan, I am able to fly, but not in such high gravity," she said, looking amused. The tone of the voder was golden, low, and pleasant, and it suited her appearance well. _Oops..._

"I'm sorry, Master, I didn't mean to be so rude as to stare. I have never seen a member of your race before."

"Indeed, so your Master told me. You did not stare, and no offense was taken."

"I'm glad," I said. "It's wonderful to see so many different kinds of people. I get a bit carried away sometimes, I have to be careful."

"That is understandable. Come, I'm hungry. Let's have lunch."

Lunch was at an Alderaanian restaurant, where the food was simple and good. It seemed to me to be similar to a cross between the best in oriental and Mediterranean food from Earth. The flavors were fresh and crisp and spicy, a pleasure to the palate. Away from the confines of the Temple I was once more surprised at how I could use my senses. Now I could identify different tastes and textures without even specifically trying. I'd likely be a better cook – if I could figure out the ingredients and seasonings.

"You're doing a Jinn again," Maru said, smiling. That's what she called it when I became aware that way. "Lost in the moment."

"I could do worse, I suppose," I replied. The girls giggled.

"Indeed," Master Ban'p'rai said. "But pleasure can be deceptive."

I nodded. "Of course, Master. Forgive me, it's been a long few days."

"So I understand, Padawan."

_Damn. Couldn't swing a cat without having it all over the Temple_.

We paid for lunch and walked the block or two to the shop – not at ground level, but a few kilometers _above _it. I hoped my white knuckles didn't show much as I clutched the railing of the walkway, or the sleeves of my robe. It was taking me a long time to get used to the aerial lifestyle. It was all right in the Temple, but usually there I couldn't see _down…_ I took a deep breath and calmed myself, and was very relieved when we got to the couture shop – which it was. Aayla went first, giving her measurement chip and, despite her best efforts, having her master pick a few rather simple – and _conservative_ – dresses for her.

"They cover _way_ too much," she said, under her breath.

"Not for Coruscant in winter, my dear," her Master replied, "and certainly not for your assignment. You are not to be a dancing girl, but a bodyguard. You will need a place to carry your lightsabre and weapons that is not easily detected."

"Yes, Master," she said, looking glum.

"You look gorgeous," I said. "What's not to like? You'll turn heads everywhere being the only_ warm_ Twi'lek around. And those dresses move beautifully."

She laughed. "I didn't think of it that way," she replied. "Now, it's your turn. I want to see what they come up with in your figure profile – you're always hiding yourself."

I sighed. "I haven't been hiding myself. I just didn't need any other clothes before this…"

We argued amiably for a few moments, and I first picked out the street clothes that Master Bodreau had listed on my datapadd. All those clothes were fairly universal in nature, and I'm just not too flashy. Aayla was disappointed, but I wasn't having any. That and shoes, stockings, and lingerie, and I figured I was done.

"But wait!" Junie said. "Aren't you going to get a party dress for the Fete?"

"You mean that nothing I just picked out will do for that?" I asked. I had picked out a couple of simple dresses, in nice colors.

"No, you need something much more special," she said. She punched up another screen and requested a formal style analysis for the measurements I had. "Here, look at these."

Well, I did. Honestly. The styles varied between Queen-of-Naboo maximum coverage pavilions that would stand on their own and house a family of six, and what looked distressingly like Mylar baggies over the naughty bits with transparent kilts as skirts. _I have the feeling that this droid doesn't like me... **can** droids dislike sentients? This is ridiculous... _It was about then that I began to snort in laughter. Maru was almost paralyzed in giggles. Being a Chadra-Fan, she wore clothing as an ornament as much as anything, and she thought this whole thing was a bit over the top. I was just not in any mood – I was tired from the long night and had no intention of looking like part of the meat display in Safeway.

"Oh, sweetie, you must be kidding. This just isn't me."

"What?" Junie asked, puzzled. "Don't you want to be in fashion?"

"Well, I suppose, but I'm not impressed with the fashion I see. I want to be able to dance, Junie, not pack my privates in plastic bags. This stuff isn't dignified, and there's no mobility in the other. Maybe I should make my own fashion."

"Make your own? How?"

"Well, I can tell the droid what I want and ask to have it made. Zed4Thesh4, are you equipped to take input directly from a customer?"

"Of course," it sniffed. _I didn't know a droid __**could **__sniff._ I guessed clothing droids had a tendency to be snooty; even the one at the Temple was cranky. "How do you think the designers put in the models?"

"Makes sense. All right, then… I saw a lovely deep green color of a heavy, well-draping material that has a shiny finish. What was that?"

"Perlanii Silasilk. Very comfortable and easy to care for."

"Sounds like my kind of thing. Please show me how a full circle dance-length skirt of that material would drape and look on my figure."

With a slight "Hmmf" it did. "And would you wish to go topless as well?"

"Hardly…" I wound up designing a swing dress, very much like one my grandmother had that I'd loved as a child.

Zed4Thesh4 sniffed once more, it seemed to be a favored part of its repertoire. "This look hasn't been current for at least 70 years, though it does flatter your figure."

"I don't recall asking your advice about the currency of the fashion, Zed4 Thesh4," I replied, perhaps a bit tartly.

There was a strangled snort from Aayla, and I looked over to see that she was mottled deep purple blue from the effort to hold back hilarity. I winked at her. Maru had her hand over her nose to stifle snorts. Master Ban'p'rai looked amused, too, but Junie just looked dazed.

"That will serve admirably, thank you for your assistance. Please have the dress and underthings delivered to my address."

"Very well, Padawan Kyle." The bill was presented, and I was gratified to see it was not too expensive for my balance, if there were any objections. I signed the transaction, shuddering at the overall total. I hoped that I'd get some use out of the clothing.

"So, is it totally outlandish?" I asked Aayla.

"Uh –" she said, struggling to be polite.

"Don't try to spare my feelings, Aayla. It's not necessary."

"You look like – someone's grandmother."

"That's fine. As long as I don't look like something from the refrigerated section," I replied. "I just don't want to offend anyone."

"No offense will be taken at your costume, Padawan," Master Ban'p'rai said. "But it is – unusual."

I sighed. "Oh, well. I'm not dressing to please anyone. If it ever comes up, I'll be happy to dress as I am required. But I was told to choose clothing to my liking, and I was shown nothing I was willing to wear. That may be too much ego, or horrifyingly provincial, but that's my story and I'm sticking to it. I hope that's acceptable."

Maru, predictably, picked out something simple and pretty, a vest and skirt in coppery brown to complement her soft fur. It was gorgeous.

After a bit of prodding, the droid showed Junie something very like an Italian Renaissance gown of peacock blue with a lacy white chemise and golden trim around the bodice. She would be just beautiful, like a fairy princess. She dimpled when I told her so, and colored.

On the way back I had to explain that I had gotten the idea for my clothes and decorations from historical fashions and decorations from Earth, but the girls were still a bit unsettled.

"But – nobody wears _anything_ like that," Aayla said. "It's almost – shocking."

"Aayla, it shocked me to see what the droid recommended for me. Clothing is very cultural, and you may not know that I don't come from hereabouts. I'm not accustomed to displaying myself in that particular manner." Aayla looked doubtful, but considered it.

"Well, Padawan," Master Ban'p'rai said with a bit of a smile. "Assertiveness is not a problem for you."

"Perhaps a fault, Master," I said. "I just feel that since I'm neither royalty nor a courtesan I shouldn't dress like either one…" I stopped, amazed. There was a _piano_ in the shop display we were passing.

"No, just that you know what you want… what are you looking at, Padawan?" she asked me.

"Oh, I just saw something that looks familiar in that shop, Master, a musical instrument that I recognize as similar to something from my home planet. Can we spare a few moments to see it?"

"I can't see why not, we're not scheduled to return for awhile. Come along." She indicated that I was to precede her into the shop, and Junie, Maru, and Aayla came in behind us.

"May I help you?" The small being that was in charge was not human, being a dusky shade of lavender with glossy green hair. He bowed deeply when he recognized Master Ban'p'rai as a Jedi. "Master Jedi, we are honored by your presence."

"Thank you," Master Ban'p'rai said, returning the bow politely. As I'd been taught, I allowed her to do the talking until I was directly addressed. "This is Miss Kyle, a Healer Padawan. She recognizes this musical instrument you have here. Would you have any objection to her looking at it?"

"Certainly not," he replied, following us to the object in question. "This is a Lactinian Fortepiano, quite uncommon as such. They are usually directly synthesized these days."

"I'd think so. May she play?"

"Of course, it would be an honor. Regular playing is necessary for the health of the instrument."

"Thank you," I said with a bow when he graciously indicated the stool. I sat down and raised the cover. It _looked_ like a grand piano, and the keys looked the same except for the colors – blue and gold. Though it was not in the temperament to which I was accustomed, it was in fine tune. It was odd, though – it had been well over a year since I'd played, and I almost had to put myself into a trance to remember how, like I was using different hands to reach the notes. Once I did, I was able to play amazingly well, considering the year's gap without practice. A two-part Invention, a bit of Chopin, a little Beethoven, and I was fine, hardly thinking anything of it. As a matter of fact, I felt like another puzzle piece had fallen into place, and that I was myself again in a way I could hardly have comprehended even an hour before. I felt closer to my family than I had in a long time, just from playing, remembering them. There was wholeness in that, and a feeling of comfort even if I missed them. I could remember now that I had an origin, a place where I came from, even if I could never go back.

I was surprised to have drawn more than a bit of an audience. I looked around, a bit dazed.

"Goodness, I am rusty," I said, a bit hoarse. "I deeply appreciate the opportunity, sir. It's a wonderful instrument."

"It is our pleasure," the shopkeeper said. "Not many come here who can play so well. Please, return any time you wish."

"Thank you very much," I replied. "You're most kind." I looked at the price of the instrument and raised an eyebrow. I had nowhere near that much money, nor would I likely see it in less than ten years, and the Jedi stipend was generous, at least to my mind. "Perhaps I shall." I bowed respectfully and we took our leave.

"Thank you, Master, I appreciate the side trip," I said. "I didn't expect to find such a thing here on Coruscant."

"Why not?" she asked.

"The planet I come from is primitive and has no commonly known contact with other civilizations, Master. There are several parallel developments, but for some reason I didn't expect something like the – fortepiano. On my planet, they called it a piano, or a pianoforte, more properly."

"Jedi and Healers are encouraged to pursue interests in the arts and letters," she replied. "It is not good to work all the time."

"I suppose not," I said. "My Master tells me so, too."

"Perhaps you should listen to him."

I smiled. "Perhaps I should," I replied. "I am doing my best, really. But I feel like I have so much to catch up on..."

"Of course. But you will not make any headway if you don't maintain a balance. Now we must return to the Temple, but perhaps you would do well to think about that," she said.

"I will, Master," I replied. "Thank you."

"I look forward to the Fete, Padawans," she said as we arrived, leaving Junie, Maru and I at the entrance to the Temple. "You will be lovely. Aayla and I have business elsewhere."

"Farewell, Master," I said, bowing. "It's been a pleasure to meet you and have your company. I will certainly consider what you said."

She smiled and she and her Padawan went their own way. We went to see what other assignments were scheduled, but it seemed that we had the rest of the afternoon free. I went back to the Healers' Wing to check on Qui-Gon, but he and Slan were napping. Master Bodreau chased me off, telling me I wasn't to go to the library or to study, but to do something I wanted to do.

_Three trees make a row, that's what my grandmother had always said._ Three people whose opinion I valued had told me the same thing – I'd been working too hard, and I was out of balance. _What was I, a stack of books with legs?_ They were right; I hadn't just taken time to goof off and do what I wanted since before I'd started training. I was suffering for it, and soon my work would, too. Hitting the ground running had been a specialty of mine from being a service brat and moving all the time. Now I was told that it was too much of a good thing. When I thought of it, I hadn't made any time to do anything that I wanted since I'd arrived on Coruscant. I was on another _planet_, for the love of heaven, and I'd hardly even gotten outside the Temple gates. I'd barely even explored the Temple. I knew I could look around, but I kept telling myself that there would be time later.

Well, really, there wasn't. There was only now, and one's duty. And I still had a duty to myself, even if I had a larger one, a reason to be here. In that, I had to suppose that I was most fortunate. Not only did I know that I had a reason to be there, I knew at least part of what it was – to make things here better than the nightmare possibility I'd been shown. Even so, in order to accomplish that, I had to be balanced, and be ready to see what I needed to do. I'd lost a good bit of my perspective. _Bad idea, Lyn. Okay, now what? _ When all else fails – I gathered myself, calmed down, and _listened._

_Go for a walk_, The wise voice in my head said. I looked around and emptied my head of the normal presupposed routes I might have, and followed my nose around the Temple for an hour. Every time I knew where I was going, I went another way.

The hallways of the Jedi Temple seem deceptively similar, but every one is unique. I focused on the art that often lined the corridors, from places I'd never heard of or imagined. I didn't understand much of it, but some of it was strikingly beautiful or fearsomely ugly. Some were the same pieces. I was amazed at one that seemingly defied the laws of physics in several ways, labeled as the holo-image of a wormhole. I stood and looked at it for a long time, wondering if this was the kind of transportation I'd used to get here. I wondered how my family and friends were coping with my loss. I missed them.

That was another reason I'd thrown myself headlong into the work, to keep myself from feeling the pangs of grief and loneliness that would come at odd times, and the anger at not being able to resolve the relationships I'd had. If I stayed busy I could save my energy for learning, and not go round the hamster wheel. I couldn't do a thing about it, after all. I just had to go on with life as I had it. I was sorry there was no way I could tell them, no way I could get them a message that I was all right, that I had survived. But that was the fact, and I'd had to live with it. I knew that life went on without me. In a way it was a comfort to know that my brother had certainly gotten married by now, and might even have a child on the way. Dad would be overjoyed if that were the case. I closed my eyes and wished them happiness. It was all I could do now. I wasn't surprised to feel dampness when I opened my eyes, and I wiped them with my bandanna.

I passed a couple of greenhouse gardens, looked inside one to see beautiful tropical flowers and other plants tended by Jedi and Padawans. Some were for medicinal purposes, and I recognized many from my studies. One of the plants could sense the Force, and followed me as it followed the others who went by it. It was a peaceful place, where the living Force was strong. I enjoyed it as I walked through..

I came to a part of the Temple I was only slightly familiar with. One of the many great kindnesses I'd been shown when I arrived was that a retired Tri'annii Jedi Master had fixed my sorrily abused guitar and fiddle and found or made me strings for them so they played like new, in tune. They even _stayed_ in good tune with the new tuners he'd installed. He had enjoyed it, he'd said, and had waved off my thanks with a smile. He was quite elderly, and I had made and decorated a walking stick for him with knotwork and bright patterns when I heard his had broken, and it amused him. As a matter of fact, the knotwork patterns I'd had put on my dress were patterns I'd doodled out to put on the stick.

This was a workshop where folks built and repaired wooden things – musical instruments, furniture, carvings. I was welcomed by another Master, who was glad to show me the shop and its facilities – there were lathes, laser cutters and chisels, and hand tools that looked the same as the ones my grandfather had used as a carpenter. There were some spectacular works of art there, and I was impressed by the range, from a very realistic bust of Master Yoda in what I could swear was Connemara marble to a wonderful curved piece of forms and angles, taking advantage of the grain of a spicy-scented reddish wood that was truly spectacular.

I thanked the Master for the tour, and bowed politely. Folks had been enjoying the creation of their work there, and it was a very pleasant place indeed. I was smiling when I left.

More following my feet, and I was met with a sign that said "Conservatory" in the Aurebesh characters and (presumably) in another, more ancient alphabet that I did not know. It was an open archway, and as I stepped in I was met with the Jedi version of the Julliard Conservatory. Padawans, Knights, and Masters of many races were there, often carrying musical instruments in cases or out of them. It was a strangely familiar scene in an unfamiliar place. I'd taken piano lessons for 10 years; from the time I was five until my mother passed away. Mom had been convinced that I was a genius, bless her soul. I was no such thing, but I liked to sing and play. It had been pretty clear to everyone _but _my mother that I hadn't the talent to be a concert pianist, and I actually preferred the guitar, and so after she passed I only played for my own amusement, for the choir at school and at the occasional party or amateur show. Practicing had been a way to remember her without weeping. Looking back at it now, the act of practicing was perhaps close to meditation for me. A stern-looking Master came up to me while I was gawking.

"May I help you, Padawan –?"

"Oh, Kyle. Belinda Kyle. I'm sorry, Master, I didn't mean to stare. I've never been here before."

"I see. Oh, you're Master Bodreau's Padawan, I remember. He said you'd most likely make your way here, but I expected you sooner."

"I'm told I've been working too hard," I said. "I have a lot to learn."

"So do we all, Padawan," he said, nodding. He smiled and didn't look quite as stern as he had at first. "Master Bodreau said that you play an instrument you called the guitar, and perhaps some other ones from your planet. We have quite an assortment of different instruments here; perhaps you might wish to try a few out."

"Well, I found one that I recognized today, called a Lactinian Fortepiano. Do you have one here, Master –"

"Tildort, I'm Master Tildort. Yes, we do. Would you like to play one?"

"I would, very much. I didn't want to impose on the shopkeeper more than I had."

"Oh, don't worry. You probably increased his business by twenty-five percent today, just to have had a Jedi in his shop. Here we are, a practice room. The next student comes in an hour, will that be sufficient?"

"Of course, that's most generous. Thank you, Master."

Practice rooms look the same in every universe, it seems, though this one was fairly big. It had the usual sound-absorbent walls and ceiling, an attractive shade of blue, and the fortepiano was a decent-looking one. It was fun to run scales; it, too, was not tuned in the equal temperament to which I was accustomed, but yet another that sounded just slightly different to me. The music sounded different as well, but I liked it.

I ran through music I could recall, after putting myself into what I had come to think of as 'remembering mode'. It worked well for physical skills I hadn't used in a while, and I produced reasonably acceptable renditions of an Arabesque and a few Etudes from memory before the next scheduled person appeared at the door. It was a senior Jedi Padawan I didn't know, but she suggested that there was more music in the music library if I wanted to look it up. She was a very handsome young felinoid woman, tall and delicate, even aristocratic-looking, with yellow-green eyes and short glossy fur that was a beautiful pattern of tiger stripes in gray and black. Her name was Selenye, and I found as we talked that we had much in common.

"I know it's hard to catch up," she said, as I gathered myself to go. "My culture isn't very advanced, either. But you can't just ignore the other parts of you, that's wrong."

"Of course, you're right," I said. "Must be the lesson of the day, I seem to have gotten it from half a dozen people, right over the head."

She laughed delightedly. "Don't you just hate it when that happens?" she asked.

"Yes, it's embarrassing," I said. "I just want to do so much…" I sighed. "I guess I need to learn more patience. Not a strong point of mine."

She made a rueful face. "It isn't easy for anyone, really. I haven't seen you around much."

"Well, I've been here for almost a year, but my bet is that you've been on missions a lot. I'm a Healer Padawan, my Master is Master Bodreau."

"Oh, that explains it, you're new. My Master and I have just come back from a mission that lasted several months. It was hard, but I learned more than I ever thought I could." She seemed quite pleased with herself, and understandably so.

"I'd guess you would. What were you doing?"

"Negotiating a development agreement for new colonies on a planet in the Outer Rim. There are several interests competing for resources there, and we had to take care that the planet wouldn't suffer. It's a lovely place, and we must be good stewards of it."

"Can't argue with that. Sounds like you had your work cut out for you."

"It wasn't easy, but we think it will work."

"That's a wonderful thing. How will the treaty be enforced?"

"General oversight will be provided by the Order at regular intervals. Reports will be submitted by the Trade Federation."

_Uh-oh… _"Ah. But, isn't that a bit like setting the fox to guard the chickens?"

She grinned, displaying a set of predictably sharp white teeth. "I suppose, but we'll be checking up on them. They're a bit sharp, but we're sharper."

"Of course. Well, see you around… hopefully not in a professional capacity, though."

She laughed again; it was a pleasant sound. "I hope not that way, either. Maybe we can practice together sometime."

"Great! It was good to meet you, Selenye."

I wondered again about Qui-Gon, how he was, as I oriented myself and memorized the location so I could come back easily. I turned and walked quickly toward the Commissary where I had told Junie I'd meet her. I took a deep breath and reached along the lines of my heart to see if he was all right. He was awake once more, and his glad warmth filled me as he became aware of my regard. For the third time that day, I felt tears gather in my eyes. _Something_ was right. Something was _very_ right. I drew a shaky sigh, and I knew that there was a totally goofy look on my face for a moment, but hey. I'd take what I could get.

I could tell that the music and the balance was important; I never got hit upside the head so many times for trivia. Then it came to me all at once, and I was dumbfounded. I stopped dead for a moment, shaking my head at the scope of my error.

_Stupid, __**stupid, **__**stupid**__**!!**__ How could I be such a fool? Obviously the reason __**I'm**__ here and not some other person born here is because I'm __**me**__, I'm different and I'm the right person for the job. If I become a cardboard cutout good little Healer, what the hell can I do to help? _

What, indeed? I'd have to stay myself, and the only way I could possibly do that was to keep what I had that was mine. And to keep it, I had to know what was mine. I couldn't go on stumbling blindly; I had to _know._ More than that, I had to be comfortable with it, and to be strong in my own identity for as long as it might take.

Sounded simple, but it was anything but that.


	3. Chapter 3

******DISCLAIMER:**** I own nothing of the Star Wars Universe, concept, or characters, and pay homage to the Great Flanneled one for his vast creative powers. I own the characters I have created, as far as they do not infringe upon his rights, or the rights of other writers of material in the Star Wars Universe. No copyright infringement is intended and I do not profit from this work. I'll put them back when I'm done, George, honest.**

Dinner was fun. I met Junie and Maru, and we brought dinner from the main Commissary back to my apartment and hung out for a bit. I played some guitar and sang, and Junie sang, too, a lovely song from her homeworld that sounded like an Irish ballad. The similarity remained when she translated the song into Basic. It was the story of star-crossed lovers, ending with the tragic death of the man and the fading away of the woman, dying from love. Even in a foreign language it was beautiful and poetic, and I found I had tears. It took a hard swallow and a beat for me to collect myself. Suddenly I missed my harp quite a lot.

"Mating is so complicated for you folks," Maru observed. "It's the whole reason you have a civilization, as far as I can figure it out."

"That would make a great dissertation topic," I said. She'd been casting around for one for the past month.

"True," she replied. "But I'm sure someone has done it."

"We'll have to look it up. And if we can't find it, I'd love to read yours, Maru. If you're not pulling my leg, that is."

"I don't know yet, I'd have to think about it, but wouldn't it be interesting to do a comparative work? Like, comparing different human cultures…"

"That would be wonderful. It's a fascinating subject to we humans, of course, but an objective eye would be much more interesting and fair," I said, "even if it might bring down some of our more cherished preconceptions. That might not be a bad thing. And you're very empathic, so at least we might get a bit of kindness for our goofy selves."

"I don't know; you're like a brick wall to me sometimes."

"Only when I get it right. I'm not the usual animal, Maru – I've had to work long and hard on my shields because I didn't start out with any. It almost killed me when I came here. So yes, I work at it, every day. I'm used to having my head to myself. If it's difficult sometimes, I'm sorry."

"It's a big adjustment, coming here."

"To say the least. But it's where I'm supposed to be. Most of the time, I'm sure of that. It doesn't seem like work, to do what I'm doing. It's more like – joy, so that's wonderful. I can't complain about being where I'm supposed to be, doing what I'm supposed to do – not very much, anyway. Most folks don't get that chance in a whole lifetime. I'm blessed."

They both nodded. "I feel the same way," Junie said. "Even if I don't do as well as I'd like."

"Junie, that's just time and practice," Maru replied. "And you don't have much of either yet. You'll be fine, really. And you're great with the older folks."

"That's because they think I'm cute, a little kid."

"Well, take what you can get, darlin'," I said. "You're a great listener, Junie; you've sat through amazing amounts of my wailing and griping. And anyone with eyes knows that you aren't a child anymore. You've grown into a lovely young woman over the past year, and anyone who doesn't know it already will see it at the Fete," I said, grinning and patting her cheek. "You're going to be a complete knockout."

"I'd hate for people to think I was vain," she said. "But I'm glad. It's about time. I'm looking forward to it, really. I love to dance."

"So do I," Maru said. "How about you, Lyn?"

"Uh – well – I don't know many of the dances here," I said. _Like, maybe, none…_

"You can learn," Junie said. "The Fete is really for teaching us how to behave in formal situations. They teach a lot of dances, too."

"Oh, well, then. I'll give it a try, but woe be to the poor fellow's feet."

"There is no try, Young Padawan," Maru said, doing a pretty creditable Yoda. We laughed. "It would be a shame to have such a pretty dress and not even dance. I fancy Master Jinn will like it," Maru said, smiling.

I colored a bit – _damn this pale skin anyway._ _Busted again, Kyle. Like you could hope to hide it. _

"If he's there at all," I replied. "So, are my feelings for Master Jinn like the bantha in the parlour that no one can talk about?"

"Oh, no," Maru said. "It's just – well, we're your friends. We could feel how upset you were when he was so badly hurt. It's not much of a challenge to figure it out after that."

I sighed. "I'd think not, you're way too smart to miss it. Oh, well. Here I thought I was being slick, and I've got a tattoo on my forehead for all to see. I guess I'll just have to get over myself."

They both giggled. "Like none of us have crushes?" Junie asked.

"Well, they expect it with you," I said. "I'm a little old for this kind of thing."

"Never. Stop looking and they bury you," Junie said. "And Master Jinn is certainly fine enough for anyone to look at."

I snorted. "That's true enough," I replied. "Now, ladies, I hate to break up the party, but I still owe my Master at least an hour of meditation on my place as a Padawan, and it's been a very long day. Thank you for coming and eating dinner with me."

"Another hour of meditation, huh? And you think he'll remember?"

"Oh, come on, I know he'll remember, I just got a reprieve because of what happened last night and today. He'll want to talk about it in the morning."

"Good thinking, then," Junie replied. She gave me a hug. "Thanks for coming with us to shop today."

"It was fun, Junie," I said.

"I didn't know you could make your own clothes. Maybe that's why you came with us."

"Could be, I can never tell when I'm being tested. I don't think that droid liked me at all. I was just cranky and tired, and I didn't want to look like I'd been shrink-wrapped for a meat display. I'm sure you'll look gorgeous at the Fete."

She dimpled. "Really?"

"Really, like an Elven princess. I'm looking forward to seeing both of you."

Maru took my hand and placed it on her forehead, a gesture of affection of her people. I felt flattered.

"May the Force be with you," she said.

"And you two as well." I gathered Maru into a hug, and she squeezed me back. "You two have saved my sanity more often than you know. I appreciate you a lot, and I hardly ever tell you."

"We have to hold each other up some kind of way," Junie said. "Who else, after all?"

"So true," I replied. "Good evening, ladies."

I called and checked on Slan, but according to the Padawan on duty in the Infirmary he was perfectly content with Qui-Gon, and they were both sleeping. I guessed Qui-Gon needed him more than I did, at that. Qui-Gon seemed to be sleeping normally when I reached out to him, and I just sent him love. _That couldn't hurt, could it?_

I settled into meditation in my little alcove after tidying up a bit, and dutifully cleared my mind to see what came about my place as a Padawan. For a while I just drifted, silently doing my best to _listen_ to what the message was. I accepted the fact that I owed my Master obedience and respect – that, after all, was the contract, and a given; he'd certainly earned all respect I could give him. I had also come to love and trust him over the time we'd been together, and I was seldom in any position to disagree with him. But when I was, I needed to be able to speak freely. Would he allow that? Would he understand that I had my path to walk in this crazy shifting maze, and it was a perilous one at best? Was it time to tell him the story, too?

_No, not yet, but perhaps soon it would be. _

Well. That was something.

I knew that it was important that I become a Healer, and accepted by the Jedi as such. It was a great joy to me to be there. Hell, it was incredible to be anywhere at all; by all rights I should be dead, twice, three times, or more. I owed my life to these kind people, and the thought of the Order being utterly destroyed tore my heart. Though they were perhaps misguided in the larger sense, they were the finest the Republic had to offer; wise, kind, good people overall. It was essential that I learn what they had to teach me, and to do so I had to accept their rules and standards. However, I couldn't just change _who I was_ to do it, and I didn't think that Master Bodreau thought so either.

So. I needed to behave myself a bit better than I had over the past few days. Even I could see that I'd been childish, and I felt pretty stupid about it. No more tantrums about things like future Sith apprentices and such, no more mysterious secrets and being special. Remember you're one of the troops and absorb what's needed, culture and knowledge, starting from zero – in fact, starting from a healthy trot back from zero. I didn't even have the local collective unconscious to guide me.

_You're **less** than a child. You know next to nothing now._

_**Ouch!**_ Gods, that smarted. Was that the problem? _Suck it up and deal, Kyle._ That one sounded like my father the jarhead. US Marine philosophy in a nutshell. Well, sometimes the old man was right.

Though I thought of myself as an adult, here I was still like a tiny child, with incredible amounts of general stuff to learn. It was damn discouraging to have to start from scratch yet again as I'd had to in every new place we'd lived over the years, but there was no leeway here, no room for my ego to screw me up. I couldn't go hide in the servicemen's accommodations and refuse to adjust, like my brother. I never had before. Here I had a difficult road to walk, staying myself and learning what I needed, but that was the only way I could do what I needed to do. I was disheartened when it came to the final unanswerable question – _could I do it? _ Could I really hold back the sickening wave of tragedy that threatened all these good people? _What the hell was I **thinking**?_ I recall reading somewhere that half of life was showing up, but that didn't apply here; I couldn't slack off or cruise, as I had done all too often in my life before. I had to be _here_, learn to live in this different world and just do what I could.

_Could it ever be enough? Was I playing into the enemy's hands by even thinking I could make a difference? _

That one took me back several paces.

Was I helping at all? How could I help? I was jarred out of contemplation into cold panic by the thought that I might be harming the very people I'd come to love, just by being there. Before I knew what was happening, I had burst into tears, curled in a ball on the floor, clutching my knees. Was it all just a random cosmic joke?

_That will be quite enough, thank you._

I took a deep breath, wiped my eyes and sat up again. I was not giving up, not now. If only for my own sanity, I had to believe that I could do some good, that I could change the future enough by my presence and actions to at least slightly ameliorate the death and destruction the Emperor would bring to the galaxy. If not, then there was no reason for me to be here, and I couldn't accept that. I was incapable of believing that my arrival there and then was a merely a random occurrence.

_But am I just fooling myself?_

I had to go through the routines of centering, calming, and reaching out three times before I stopped shaking. But once I did, and I reached out to feel it, the Force was there. There was comfort in it, and I just took it as I found it. I didn't have to know what would happen. I just needed to know it could work out, that there was a chance.

I was exhausted. I went to bed.

I woke much more easily than I had two mornings before, even if I didn't have the four-legged alarm to help me get up and at 'em. After a kata or two I sat for my normal morning meditation, and seemed a little clearer for the night's sleep and the extra time. I was able to frame what I wanted to say and how I needed to say it, and that was helpful. I went to the Commissary and obtained breakfast, complete with some very nice pastries that were still warm from the oven. _No harm in sucking up if I was going to get reamed. _

"Come in, Padawan," Master Bodreau said. "I take it you have completed the meditation I have requested of you?"

"Yes, Master, though it was in two pieces. I was meditating when Master Jinn woke up the first time. I didn't get to finish up until last night."

"Ah. That is most satisfactory, Belinda. What have you discovered?"

"Well, I guess I should just get over myself, at least about things I know that might not be apparent, or even correct. For the larger picture – I'm sorry, Master. I do my best not to offend, but time and again I do, not even realizing that I'm abrasive to others. I'm young, but not a child – I've been different things in my life. I've been a student, a musician, a caregiver, even a lover, and other things as well. Not many come to the Temple as late as I have, and it's difficult to make the transition from being an adult to knowing less than the tiniest child about many things." I took a deep breath, trying to say what I needed to say without giving even more offense, though I'd never seemed to offend Master Bodreau so badly as I offended others – most notably Silloq. I wondered what the bug up his arse actually was, often. I couldn't seem to do anything right to his mind. Of course, my discovery of the night before might have a role in that – if he knew Qui-Gon well at all, he would know that Qui-Gon just wasn't wired to love men in that manner.

"I am not trained and disciplined the way a Jedi is, I was not raised in isolation here in the Temple. I come with my own personality, my own sense of honour, quirks and neuroses. That probably makes me a pretty difficult case overall, at least where training is concerned. However, I deeply believe in what the Order stands for, I believe in the mission of the Jedi. I find that it's my heart's desire to be a Healer, that what I do here is not work to me but a great joy, to help make whole the sick and injured. It is joy, too, to be around such wise people, and to learn from them. I don't wish to offend, but I can only be myself. If that is not acceptable, then what shall I do? Is this a bad idea after all? Am I dangerous to those around me, angering them by my very presence? Am I doing something wrong that I don't even understand?"

I sighed, lowered my eyes and waited. I sensed that he was also distressed through our bond, and it took all my willpower to leave him to his own thoughts. Then, I felt the Force swirl around us, as he evaluated my words and the very honest sentiments behind them, and truly tried to see what was best.

I had always thought of foresight as a sore burden – the few times it had visited me it had been a leaden weight upon my heart, demanding tasks I didn't know if I had a chance to complete. To seek it out – he must have been as confused as I was. To help him, I pulled myself to center, and maintained as much stillness as I could. It took a little while for him to come back.

"Belinda," he said finally, "you have asked an important question, especially considering your background. You have said you are happy here in your work, and it distresses you to offend. It is understandable. Padawan, it is inevitable that you won't get along with everyone, even here in the Temple. Jedi Code or not, we will not all be able to live together in perfect amity. However, civility is required. Frankly, I have expected better of you than your behavior toward Silloq, but with information that has come to me from others, I must consider that he has provoked your ire, while the rest of the Healers and Masters are not looking. Has he done so? What irritates you so about him?"

"Master?" I asked, looking up, startled. "How – " I sighed. "Here I think I'm taking care of things myself. Yes, he has. He's manipulative, insulting, crass, rude, and cutting. He seems to regard me as a servant or an errand girl. What have I done to deserve this treatment? He is of a royal house, but he doesn't treat others this way. Who the blazes died and left him in charge?"

"You must trust me, Belinda, or I cannot help you. There's no need for you to fight this battle at all, much less alone," he replied. "His behavior is simply unacceptable, and would not be were he the King of Botha himself – and the King of Botha is not so arrogant. As you encounter noble families, you will find that the most unpleasant and overbearing of them are actually the ones with little standing, strangely enough."

I nodded. "That makes sense, in a weird sort of way, I suppose… He is a clever little ba – um, creep."

"Envy is a powerful weapon of the Dark Side," he said. "I fear that he may fall if he is not confronted quickly."

I was astounded. I'd only thought of Silloq as a conceited little jerk, not as a potential foe of the Order and of the Light itself. _Remember, now you're playing with all the marbles. This isn't just high school clique warfare, girl, it's for real, and you may have allowed this young man to ruin his life by trying to act like it was a little tiff…_

"_**Envy?**_ Master – this is what I meant. I had no idea until lately that there was any issue but a personality problem that was trivial..."

"Belinda, we all must confront the Dark Side, in any shadows we have within us. You remember that moment well, I am sure. Silloq must struggle with it every day, as you do with your temper. It seems to me that his struggle may not be as successful. Do not fear, these are his choices, not yours."

"I know, Master, but I never said I was easy. I do my best to work well with others, but he seems to go out of his way to make cooperation impossible." I sighed. "I don't want him to _fail._ I just want him to succeed – far away from me."

He chuckled. "Indeed," he said. "I am pleased to see that you truly do not wish him ill. That is most patient of you, considering. As hard as it is to deal with him, you have managed to hold your temper."

I sighed. "Not by much, Master. One of these days I'm going to slug him, so help me, especially if he lays his hands on me."

"You must defend yourself under those circumstances, of course. And make him remember it."

"He would, but I'd be more likely to holler and run away."

"And what good would that do either of you? I know you are reluctant to strike, but you must trust yourself. Master Jinn trusted you even when he trained you on the island, to do the right thing. You are capable of doing it now."

"I seldom think that whacking someone upside the head or worse is the right thing," I replied. "But I will do my best to be guided by my training, Master."

"Belinda, as you very correctly concluded, your ways are often different from ours. My error – and it is a very profound one – has been to assume that our way is the only way. That is wrong, and such arrogance can but lead to sorrow and tragedy."

"But your way has worked for a long time, Master. And I hardly find any shame or even any problem with honest differences if we discuss them constructively. If I am wrong, I can accept that. But with no discussion, I can't see what my error might be, or if it is an error at all."

"And I have not allowed discussion, treating you as a child, which you are not. You are willing to learn in any way you can, but I have not taught you what you have needed. You have your own place and a path which only you can travel, and I have not been willing to see or take that into account. For that failure, I am sincerely sorry. I fear I have become complacent in my age. I thank you for the opportunity to learn, my Padawan."

I took his hands and smiled. "I thank you for – _everything_, my Master."

He smiled, too, and we ate breakfast quietly. It had to be enough, I supposed. The fact that he acknowledged that I was different and that it was often okay was encouraging. I'd just have to do my best.

Events conspired to keep me more than busy in the time between Qui-Gon's release and the day of the dance, and I didn't even have time to see him. He was busy with reports and meetings after his recovery, and was on strict light duty for several weeks, at first not even allowed to train or spar. I was pulling a regular shift in the infirmary, and now teaching that sex-ed class in addition to my usual rigorous schedule of physical training and other classes.

I was still a bit nervous when it came right down to it. I dressed carefully, and did my hair up in a French twist, allowing the Padawan braid to hang freely as usual. I strung my locket on the new gold chain as my only jewelry. I imagined that I wouldn't worry so much once the dance had started. I sighed. The dress did flatter my figure, and I'd just have to live with whatever criticism I got.

It wasn't a long walk to the ballroom, and as I found a seat in the corner, I saw Junie and Maru coming to find me. Junie _did _look like an elven princess, her hair loose about her shoulders in a glowing russet cloak, her eyes matching the peacock blue of her gown, her fair skin glowing in the subdued light. She was incredibly beautiful, graceful and slender, shining like the spring after winter.

"There she is," Maru said. She looked wonderful as well, in the golden color she'd chosen that brought out her eyes and the beautiful highlights in her fur. I smiled when they came to me.

"Good evening, ladies," I said. "How lovely you look tonight!"

They both smiled, and Junie colored a bit. "So do you," she said.

"I'm just glad to look like a girl for a change and not a loaf of French bread," I replied. "You – knock 'em dead, girl! They'll be howling at the moon."

She giggled. "You're fooling me," she said.

"I wouldn't do that – you're beautiful. Just wait. You won't sit down all night."

"And you?" she replied.

"I'm on wallflower duty this evening," I shot back. "That is, unless some kind soul teaches me to dance."

"I'm sure _someone_ will suffer through it," Maru said, with a sly smile.

"Well, I wore soft shoes so I wouldn't do anyone injury," I said, grinning back. "And have you seen Barlo Deek?" I asked. "He's all dressed up too, he looks wonderful." Barlo was the Chadra-Fan male Padawan, almost ready for knighthood. He was the only one in many generations, and all his people were very proud of him. Maru had something of a passion for him from afar. She smiled.

"He's back from his mission?" she asked. "That's great! I'll go say hello, then." And before she lost her nerve, she was off.

"Go get him," I said. "Good luck!"

"And he sees her, too," Junie said softly. "Oh, Force, we'll hear the explosion for miles."

"Maybe. She really does like him. He's a sweet fellow, and very brave, too, from all reports. Do you think … " I sighed. "Oh, let's not even start that. I hope she has a good time, we'll hear about it later."

Junie giggled. "Right. No gossip, we'll get the facts instead. Oh, my – " A tall, very handsome Jedi Padawan walked up to us and favored Junie with a stunned but devastating smile.

"Hello, Junie – you look – so beautiful. What a lovely dress."

"Why – thank you, Moss. You're looking very handsome tonight too. Lyn, this is Padawan Moss Narden. He was in my Clan, a yearmate. His Master is Sasee Tinn. Moss, this is Master Bodreau's Padawan, Belinda Kyle."

He bowed, and took my hand in his. "I'm pleased to meet you, Padawan Kyle," he said, giving me one of those thousand-watt opuses too. "Junie has told me a lot about you."

"Don't believe the good things," I replied. "I'm pleased to meet you, too, Padawan Narden. Your Master speaks highly of you. Congratulations on the success of your last mission. It's all around the Temple how you helped with the border conflict on Wrenta, you did wonderful work."

"It was wonderful to be able to help," he said, coloring a bit. "My Master did the work, I just tagged along." He looked back at Junie, and I got the impression that I was definitely _not_ the object of his attention.

_Duh, Kyle, get a clue... _

"Junie, would you like to dance?"

"Why – yes, that would be wonderful. It's nice to start out with someone you know, isn't it?"

He smiled again. "Yes. I'm a little nervous, I haven't been to one of these for a long time."

"They're all the same, but I'm glad you're here," she said. "See you later, Lyn."

"Have fun!" I said.

It seemed to be a line-based dance, something of a cross between "Strip-the-Willow" and a Virginia reel. The music was lively and sprightly, and I almost recognized the tune. I sat with my punch and a cookie and grinned. It was going to be fun, even if I only watched the rest dance. The little ones liked the fast pace of the dance, and there was a good deal of laughter.

During a set of contra-like dances of the same sort, Master Windu arrived, and drew a bead on me. He was resplendent in formal robes, impeccable as always. He came up to me and bowed, and I did what I'd wanted to do from the moment I met him – I dipped into a deep formal curtsy. He smiled, took my hand, and kissed the fingers gently.

"Good evening, Belinda," he said. "You're looking lovely."

"Why, thank you! Good evening to you, too, Master Windu," I replied. "Good to see you, you look splendid, as always."

"Why aren't you dancing?" he asked, puzzled.

"No one asked – and I don't know these, anyway."

"That's easily remedied," he replied. "May I?"

"I'd be delighted, Master," I said. He reached out his hand and took mine once more, and he swung me out to the floor in a set of what seemed to be polkas and a waltz. I proved to myself that I was perfectly normal by thoroughly enjoying the scent of his toiletries, dark and spicy, and the nearness of a very handsome and charming man. He led firmly and gracefully so I could follow, and we had a good time. He returned me to where I'd been sitting before, and Junie had returned with Moss. They all greeted Master Windu with bows, and he seemed honestly startled by Junie.

"Why, Padawan, you're gorgeous tonight," he said to her. She dimpled, and colored a bit.

"Thank you, Master Windu," she said. "You're looking well, too. It's good to see you."

"May I have this dance?" he asked, bowing to her.

"Why, I'd love to," she said, with a dazzling smile.

The men clustered around Junie like moths to a flame – she was truly lovely, and she had a sweet and kind nature that made it even harder to miss her. It was her evening, and I was pleased for her.

I danced with several Padawans of various ages, none of whom stepped on my feet. Good work, my feet are hard to miss. They were sweet and charming, and a few were even good-looking. Several of them seemed a bit bemused at Junie's transformation. I was pleasantly surprised when Silloq turned on the charm and treated us in a very courtly and gentlemanly manner, dancing with each of us in turn as custom demanded. I was, however, still suspicious, the proverbial "bad feeling". I kept an eye on him. Our dance was not a pleasant experience, though he was polite enough.

There were a couple of line dances for the women, and we had fun and lots of giggles mastering the simple steps. Master Windu came back and taught me another few dances; these were more along a set dance idea, like a square dance. I got the idea that he truly liked dancing, and came because he had a good time. He was his usual charming and witty self, and I very much enjoyed his company and his shrewd and funny observations about the crowd in the ballroom.

"Monopolizing the pretty women again, I see, Mace," Qui-Gon said, as we headed back to the punchbowl for a drink.

"It's not my fault that you come late, my friend," he replied with a smile. "I was just warming them up for you."

I chuckled, and did Qui-Gon a courtesy. "Good evening, Master Jinn," I said. "You're looking well."

He took my hand. "And you're looking wonderful, Padawan," he replied with a bow. "Is this the infamous dress?"

"Yes, it is," I said. "I'm told I look like someone's grandmother, but I still think it's a bit better than looking like a refrigerated trout. It's just not me."

Both he and Master Windu chuckled at that. "It does remove the mystery from things," Master Windu said.

"And that's _good_?" I asked. "Well, I suppose there's something to be said for truth in advertising." I sighed as they chuckled once more. "I think I know which punchbowl isn't spiked yet," I continued. "Anyone in?"

"What fun is _that?"_ Mace asked, and bowed. "I think I'll go see how Jax is doing."

"Well, then," I said, "thank you very much for the lessons, Master Windu."

"You're most welcome, I quite enjoyed it."

And he went off, whistling the tune from the dance that was starting.

"Shall we?" Qui-Gon asked, indicating the couples forming on the dance floor.

"I'd love to," I replied, promptly not thinking a thing about being thirsty.

He, too, led so I easily followed the simple steps, and seemed to enjoy it. I certainly did – he was tall and strong and graceful, and it was a joy to dance with him, to be held in his arms. He gallantly danced with Junie and Maru as well, and kissed Junie's hand and bowed at the end of her dance. I couldn't blame her for the stars in her eyes, I was sure mine were just as bright.

Silloq came back to me while Qui-Gon had gone to speak with one of the Knights present, and the others were dancing. I smelled alcohol on him, heavily, and now knew where the bad feeling had come from. Surprisingly, he hadn't come to immediately pick a fight, but to ask me to dance. I didn't have to think about that one.

"No, thank you, Silloq," I said, politely. "I'd rather not." That would be _asking_ for trouble, and I had enough already without putting in a special order.

"What!?" He asked. "You'd _rather not?"_

"That's right, but thank you for asking," I said, a bit more firmly. I turned away to go, and he grabbed my shoulder and spun me back to face him, surprisingly strong.

_Bad move..._I tried to shrug shrug my shoulder out of the grip and thereby avoid the confrontation, but he had me hard enough to bruise and would not let go.

"I suggest," I continued quietly, "that you move that hand if you want to keep it, Padawan Riijs." Folks began to notice, and I went to the old SCA standby. "How _**dare**_ you?" I hissed, projecting my voice and using one of Master Windu's dirty tricks to dislodge his hand. Painfully.

Wrong move. He lost his temper and lashed out at me, slapping my face before I could fall back. He made a motion with his other hand, too, and there was a mental attack that cut only a little less deep than the one that had almost killed me when I arrived at Coruscant.

"How _dare _I? _How dare I?_ _**How dare you? **_Where are _you_ going to do better?" He sneered. "You think your handsome Jedi Master will come to rescue you? You think he's going to come sweep you off your feet and take you away from all this? What a _joke!_ I'm sick and tired of your high and mighty attitude when you're not even good enough to be a high-class _whore, _much less to be a Jedi's lover, you dirty little Vagabond slut! It's high time someone put you in your place. You're _nobody_, you're _less_ than nobody, you're a _**clon**__**e!**_ You scum, your sort are _chattel_ on my world, less than slaves! _**How dare **__**you?**__**"**_

He was shouting by this time, having entirely lost his temper. Even through the pain I stood flat-footed and open-mouthed, _because_ _he was telling the truth_. I knew that the moment it came out of his mouth, and cursed myself for having not figured it out sooner. Suddenly the various odd phenomena I'd experienced in the last months all made sense, beginning with the patterning sessions and relearning of the most elementary movements and physical skills and going onward. I'd joked about my 'new brain' but the moodswings I'd had and the flightiness there since childhood were gone.

I swallowed a whimper, took a deep breath and quieted myself, lest _my_ temper get me into trouble. _There was no way this little ratty bastard was going to see me admit that he'd hurt me, even if it felt like I couldn't catch a breath, like I was bleeding out._

"I don't believe that's the law here, Padawan Riijs," I said, barely managing to hold back tears of rage. "We were on Coruscant the last time I checked. Whether it's true or not, I am a sentient being, and I have the right to say no if I choose. _Please leave me alone_." He stepped back a bit before the tone of my words, and I took the opportunity to withdraw further, almost stumbling into Qui-Gon. Master Windu was there as well, and a few other Masters and Knights I didn't immediately recognize.

"Yes, Padawan Riijs," Master Windu said, and I could feel a quiet menace behind the words, "that would be a _very_ good idea." It suddenly seemed that Silloq wasn't as out of control now that he was faced with Qui-Gon and Mace, and not nearly as brave – of course, that would be an adaptive trait. He moved back a little further, but he was laughing, _smiling, goofy, _looking like he'd just had a hit of that drug, Zonko, or like some of the crackheads I remembered. It was creepy. My head began to pound.

"M-master Jinn – Master Windu -- "

"I believe your Master will wish to speak with you shortly," Master Windu said to Silloq, coldly enough to send a chill down my spine. "Your behavior is a disgrace to this Order. Return to your quarters, Padawan Riijs."

He bowed hastily. "Yes, Master Windu," he said, still with a goofy, stoned look pasted on his face. He left hastily but walked a trifle unsteadily, and I took another deep breath, struggling to find a center that seemed to have vanished like mist. Now I could feel the tears sliding down my face, and I trembled as the puzzle pieces fell into place rapidly.

_Of course it was true_. I was no longer a klutz, didn't have migraines twice a week anymore, had no trouble with my weight, no killer PMS. My foot was whole and so was my shoulder. _What else had they changed? __**Who am I now?**_

"Belinda?" Qui-Gon asked. "Are you all right?" He laid a hand on my arm, and it seemed to anchor me somehow. I felt much steadier for it.

"I – don't know," I whispered. "I feel – strange."

"They didn't tell you," he said. I shook my head, now unable to speak. I could hardly stand. "I wasn't aware of that," he continued. "I am sorry, Belinda."

I took another deep breath, and steadied myself. I wiped my face with the back of my hand and straightened myself as best I could. "It's not your fault, Qui-Gon. I should have figured it out, I suppose. Please, will you give my excuses to the others? I don't want to make more of a scene than I already have, but I need to leave now. I need to – think about this."

"Of course," he said. He tilted my chin up so I looked him in the eyes, now sad to feel my pain, and followed a last tear track with a gentle touch of a long, elegant finger. I could feel the comfort he wanted to give me, but I couldn't accept it. I smiled shakily, to acknowledge his care, and took his hand. "You have much to consider. But think on this as well – does it make any difference?"

"That's a good question, maybe the only one that counts," I replied. "I have to find the answer myself, I think."

"Yes," he said softly. "That is certainly so, but you are hurt. Let me help you."

"It's just bruises, Qui-Gon. No need, but thank you."

"Some wounds are not visible, Belinda," he replied.

"No – no, Qui-Gon. For those, I must seek healing within myself."

"Perhaps that is also the case. May the Force be with you, Belinda."

"Thank you, Qui-Gon. With you as well." He kissed my hand gently.

I slipped out when the next dance began, and walked down the corridors in random directions until I found the same meditation garden Qui-Gon and I had used so long ago. It felt like a hundred years.

_No wonder they thought they had to break our bond. No wonder they couldn't. He held me here, helped me stay. I know it's true. I am alive because he cared enough to help me. _

The chamber garden was pretty and quiet, no one there right then, with a small fountain and cool, deep green plants. I splashed my face a bit to cool it and wipe tears away, and calmed myself, taking the time to do it thoroughly, with all the tools I'd been given. I shielded as well, blocking everyone out, even – and especially – Master Bodreau. It was a relief to finally find that I _did_ have a center, and that it was where it had always been, just made elusive from the shock of Silloq's revelation. I supposed that was understandable, but I wasn't happy with it. If a personal remark or insult could knock me off that much, I wasn't much of a Healer yet. _ But what was I anyway? _

I looked back, now, to have some clue, some indication of how I knew he was right, and then it came to me, the voices of Qui-Gon and the others that had haunted my dreams.

_Are you sure, little one? Are you sure? _ Evidently I had been sure then. Sure of what, though? I knew then, I had to tell someone about what could happen to Qui-Gon, to Obi-Wan, to the whole Jedi Order.

_Not that they had listened_, I thought, grimly. _What sense was it now? Why was I still here if they didn't use what I gave them? Surely they knew, they understood -- _

I was taken up short, then, and opened my eyes in shock. _Of course they'd heard what I'd had to say, of course they understood. But they didn't believe it could happen. They preferred their will to the Will of the Force, and u__nless I could make more of a difference, it would cost them all their lives. _

_Could anyone make them see? Am I just fooling myself, being an unwitting instrument of the bloody Sith devil? Gods, should I even be alive now?_ I could feel panic rising. My memory had been compromised, even invaded. Perhaps I was now a tool of his designs. Overall, I could see _why_ they were keeping me close here, to keep an eye on me.

_**I had already failed.**_

_Okay__, Kyle, get hold of yourself; get over this. Can you do anything about this? How many of the people here are conceived or even birthed by artificial means? Are they any less for that? Do __**you **__feel any less than human, less than what you were? Hardly. In fact, idiot, you've got the best second chance that anyone could have. Get a grip. You're still breathing, you still have something to do, and self-pity is __**not**__ on the list. _

That was the logical part of my mind talking, and I had to admit that there was something to consider in that. But on the other hand, I had _failed – _I had not been able to warn the right people of the right things. _He had caught me_. What made me think that this new ditto-me would be able to do any better?

But why keep this particular fact from me? Wouldn't it be best to tell me so that the fact couldn't be used as ammunition against me?

Well, they must have decided that I would freak out – as I just had. Of course. I was disappointed that they would think the worst of me, but not surprised. And maybe _they_ wanted it as ammunition. This was a prime example of why things had to change. I got the feeling that I was regarded as – a pawn on the board, disposable at that.

_Don't get paranoid, Kyle. Who the hell died and left you in charge? Why would they think that much of me? I was a stray, a pathetic life form that Qui-Gon had brought to the Temple. _ I had shown Force sensitivity so they had to train me, so I wouldn't be a danger to myself or others, but otherwise – I wondered if under other circumstances whether I'd have been kept on, perhaps as a curiosity. Now at least I was learning something, to be useful. _Don't let anger control you. Haven't you learned that at least? Continue to be useful, to learn. The other things can be worked out later. These are good, kind people, overall. They just have a different – point of view..._

I felt a bit better, I guessed. The pep talk hadn't done what I wanted it to, but I could at least fake being together enough to go back to my apartment. I could make a stab at thinking straight, and I could breathe a bit better. I showered and changed, and put my dress away, and sat to meditate some more.

I sensed people approaching, and I looked up to see Master Yoda in his hoverchair, flanked by Master Bodreau and Master Dooku. I hastily stood and bowed to them. _Gods, I wish they'd just leave me alone for a bit to figure this out. I'm still so __confused... and__ I feel so strange, so weak, and cold..._

"Good evening, Masters," I said. "I regret the disturbance I must have caused at the Fete. I apologize."

"No apologies are necessary, Padawan. It is we who owe apologies," Master Bodreau said.

"How so, Master?" I asked. "I would have appreciated candor on the subject for myself, but you had no way of knowing that Silloq would lash out in such a manner. His arrogance is not your responsibility."

"Master P'nr'u has been informed, however, and Silloq has been reprimanded."

"For telling the truth?" I asked, curious.

"Reprimanded he was for betraying a confidence," Master Yoda said. "Shameful his actions were, without respect."

No arguing with that. I nodded.

"And we are guilty of no less with you," Master Bodreau said. "Belinda, please understand; your body was terribly damaged by the poison in the dart that hit you. There was brain damage, and your organs were failing one by one. It was all we could do to keep you alive, even in medical stasis, until we could make the transfer. It was an experimental method, but it was the only chance we could give you."

I bowed. "I thank you for that, then, and once more for your kindness and your care. And thank you all for my life. I must ask, though – exactly what _is_ my status here?"

"Officially a citizen of Coruscant, you are." Master Yoda spoke quietly.

"Thank you, Master. I was curious," I replied. I felt empty, but I had to at least give a formulaic response. "I know that you asked my consent before the procedure, I remember that now. I can hardly withdraw it. I can only hope to make good use of this amazing chance you have given me."

"Pragmatic your view is," Master Yoda said.

I shrugged. "I'm hardly in a position to debate the morality of cloning or other such technology, Master. I'm breathing, so I must have some work to do, and it seems that this is where I need to be. I'm blessed to even be here, and I don't see how that changes."

"A logical conclusion, Padawan," Master Dooku said, speaking for the first time. "You may think differently in the morning."

"I may indeed, Master Dooku," I replied. "As I said, it seems that I have work to do. I'll do it. Any other niceties will have to wait until I figure them out."

There was a hint of a sad smile in his eyes as he nodded, but Master Bodreau and Master Yoda still looked like they were at a funeral. I could especially see it in Master Bodreau's eyes – distress and regret, a need for forgiveness.

"We can discuss this tomorrow, Padawan," he said. "Now you must rest. You have been hurt."

"As you wish, Master," I said, bowing. I took his hands and looked into his eyes directly. "Be assured, though – I bear you no ill will because of this incident. It was not under your control. It happened. I just have to get over myself a little bit more."

He gave me something of a smile. "I am glad," he said. "Your adjustment has not been easy."

"My Master of understatement," I said, with a smile. "But I'm working on it. My Masters, may I take my leave of you? I am tired, and I have much to consider. I also have a very early day tomorrow."

"That is true," Master Bodreau said. "Very well. May the Force be with you, Padawan."

"And with you, Masters. Good night." I bowed and left them to their own devices. I wasn't interested in any more philosophical debates, and the Gods alone knew that I didn't want _any _more advice.


	4. Chapter 4

******DISCLAIMER:**** I own nothing of the Star Wars Universe, concept, or characters, and pay homage to the Great Flanneled one for his vast creative powers. I own the characters I have created, as far as they do not infringe upon his rights, or the rights of other writers of material in the Star Wars Universe. No copyright infringement is intended and I do not profit from this work. I'll put them back when I'm done, George, honest.**

**+Author's Note: These stories were written several years ago, as we processed the full import and trauma of the events of 9/11/2001. Though I watched the second Tower fall on television, I personally was not involved with any of the rescue events of those days, in New York, Pennsylvania, or at the Pentagon (less than 15 miles from my house as the crow, or jet, flies). **

**For those of you who wish to get or recall that dumbfounded feeling, go to www(dot)tompaxton(dot)com(slash)download(dot)html - and download and listen to the song, "The Bravest", by Tom Paxton (it's free)-- or listen to Bruce Springsteen's song, "The Rising" for something that is curiously uplifting, hopeful, and truly beautiful. This story helped me process a good bit of the trauma, and I hope that it helps some of you as well. Even now the grief is still heavy.+**

I didn't sleep that night. There were too many things I needed to consider, too many things to figure out. I couldn't stop mulling it over, as though I'd acquired an obsession in an instant. I managed to stop the sensation I had of bleeding, but it still felt like I had some kind of leak, as though something was draining slowly from my very self.

I found my center with great difficulty the next morning, and managed a rather light morning meditation with Slan curled on my shoulder. He'd been very distressed at my lack of sleep the night before, and scolded me terribly when I went to bring breakfast to Master Bodreau as usual.

_/Lyn is sick! Silloq hurt you, you have to rest!/_

"I'm okay, pal. Nothing is bleeding and I won't let that little sucker think he's hurt me," I said. "I'm just upset. Nobody told me what had really happened, and there's a lot to think about." I set him on my shoulder. "Come on, we'll go get some pastries for breakfast."

The sweet smell of the fruit in the tarts and the cereal made me feel a bit sick. I couldn't eat, but drank a cup of tea as we spoke of what to do that day. Master Bodreau was a bit concerned, but I made light of it, and insisted on doing my regular shift.

"Work will be the best thing for me, Master," I said. "Silloq just slapped me and bruised me, and my ego too. I refuse to let that arrogant little man get the best of me. If that's a problem, then so be it."

"It is not a problem now, Padawan," he said, "but do not allow your pride to blind you to a real injury. Master Jinn is of the opinion that other, less visible wounds were inflicted upon you, and Padawan Riijs' behavior has been very strange since the incident."

"No doubt," I said, remembering the wild and frightening expression on his face. "Probably a hangover, Master, he was reeking of alcohol at the time. I'll be fine."

_Fine, hell. I was an idiot._

Looking back on it now, I can't imagine how I could have thought I would be all right, but perhaps it was pride and ignorance that kept me going for as long as I did - or sheer bullheadedness, which is more likely. I wouldn't listen to anyone, and isolated myself because I didn't want to deal with others' concern. Over the next couple of weeks, I slept poorly if at all, and only if I ran myself to exhaustion. Everything I ate just made me sick. I lost weight, and it became more difficult to concentrate or do anything useful.

I began to feel like I was losing substance, turning into a shadow, a non-entity. Sometimes I felt surprised that I wasn't just passing _through _things, like a ghost, as I did in my dreams when I could sleep. During my daily meditation (if you could call it that), I had recurrent images of failure, death, and doom, and became steadily weaker and more depressed. The images, of course, were self-fulfilling. I had more and more trouble concentrating, centering, or doing any work at all. Finally, the day came when I couldn't even call the Force to ease a young Padawan's pain from a lightsabre burn from the training salle.

It was the last straw. I left the Infirmary when Master Bodreau told me to go to my apartment and rest, but I couldn't sit still and so wandered aimlessly for hours, even if I was deadly tired. I stopped in to make sure Slan had something to eat for dinner. I dimly realized I had to make arrangements for him; though I wasn't organized enough to know what I wanted to do, I figured I had to find a home for him in case I wasn't allowed to remain.

_/Lyn eat too! Lyn is thin, sick! Go to the Infirmary!/_

"I just came from there, Slan. Listen, why don't I take you over to Master Qui-Gon's quarters? He'll take good care of you."

_/Why do you cry? Don't cry.../_

"I can't do it anymore, Slan. I can't help people. I - can't help anyone, not even you. I'm sorry, buddy. Master Jinn will take care of you."

He made a distressed little noise and tried to comfort me by stroking my hair. /_Master Qui will help you too if you let him./_

"No, he's done enough, Slan. I can't ask more of him. I'm just causing trouble for him and Master Bodreau. Maybe Silloq is right after all. How can I be - be special to anyone, just being a bad copy of a flawed original? This was all a mistake, a huge cosmic joke. I'm just not smart enough to see the humor in it." I went into Qui-Gon's apartment. He wasn't in, most likely he was teaching or sparring somewhere. Slan had a bed and food there, too, and he'd be fine. "Goodbye, buddy. Be a good fellow for Master Jinn, okay?"

_/No! Lyn stay!/_

"I have to go, Slan. I should have gone a long time ago. I'm sorry."

_/But where? Slan come with you!/_

"No. Qui-Gon will take care of you. I'll miss you, but it's for the best."

I turned and left, after dropping a kiss on his head. _Yes, this is best. There's no way I can even take care of myself, much less this sweet little guy. _Then I just walked, wherever my feet took me. I wasn't even together enough to know where I was going, I just knew that I should go.

I went to a lower-level observation deck and looked up to see the sunset of that clear winter afternoon. The Core was visible even in the twilight, a smear of light opposite the sun, and it was actually quite lovely. The sky was a teal blue color, unique to that world, deepening as the sun set. The air was thin and cold, but quiet, and there was no one else down there, though traffic was still heavy. Suddenly the intention crystallized in my head.

_I'll have to wait if I'm going to jump , _said the voice in my head, _I'll kill someone if I hit their car. I can't hurt anyone else. I've done enough of that already. _

As soon as I stepped close enough to see off the edge of the balcony, I looked down and was utterly, pee-my-pants terrified. I wasn't being _prevented_ from jumping. The only thing that was keeping me there was my own fear. I could feel the Force watching now. Well, _It_ knew I was a twinkie, too.

_Typical. The Jedi are right. I could never be one of them. Maybe I can't even be a Healer if I'm this much of a coward. I can't even decently kill myself. What a joke I am._

I sat down next to the knee wall of the balcony, and curled up. I was cold, and I'd not even thought to bring a cloak with me. Oh, well. If I stayed there long enough it wouldn't matter, I supposed. I couldn't go back in there anyway, I'd just be met with detached Jedi pity and sympathy – and _advice_. Gods alone knew if I heard another word of _advice_, I'd most likely scream.

I sat on the balcony and a wave of blackness washed over me. For the first time since I had landed in this madness, I grieved. I grieved for the life that I no longer had, mourned for the friends I could never again see, lamented the family gone forever. Wept for the world I had lost, and for the place I wanted but now could not have.

_Why me?_ In this whole bloody realm of Creation, there had to be _someone_ else who could do this better than I could. I couldn't presume to change what would be - hell, I didn't know if I'd already changed events, and for the worse. I felt hopeless and overwhelmed, and the tears and sobs lasted much longer than I'd imagined they would.

When they were finally finished, I was empty and exhausted. It was all I could do to look upward at the stars once more. The sun had set, and it was getting colder, but it was still peaceful. No one was there to give me the benefit of their wisdom or to tell me how to live. It was something of a relief. I realized that now I could feel the gentle presence of the Force all around me, as I hadn't been able to do for days. I was shivering, but even so it wasn't so bad, with all the horror and rage emptied out of me. I felt somehow lighter and more easy. I leaned against the stone balcony and just sat there.

I don't know how long it was before I heard the door open. I didn't bother to turn; it was too much effort for my chilled bones. I'd stopped shivering and I was feeling rather comfortable. Part of my bemused mind knew that this was a sign of severe hypothermia and I should go inside, but I just didn't feel like going. _What was the sense of it?_ I was somehow unsurprised at the voice behind me, dark, warm and soothing, like buckwheat honey.

"I couldn't jump either, when I came down here," he said. "Lovely, isn't it?"

"Jump?" I asked, having difficulty forming words. "That's a laugh. You know how terrified of heights I am. I couldn't even get close to the ledge."

"That is fortunate," he said, kneeling next to me and taking my hands. "You are so cold, Belinda. How long have you been down here?"

"Down here?" I repeated stupidly. "I don't know. I just - came here, after - after I couldn't -- " I sighed. "It is pretty here. Quiet."

"We've been looking for you for quite some time," he continued. "People have been worried. Are you all right?"

"Worried? I didn't mean -- " I felt like my brains were about six kilometers away, lightheaded and disconnected.

"Master Bodreau says you haven't been sleeping. You are - thin, little one."

"I'm not hungry," I replied. "I - it makes me sick to eat. Qui-Gon, I couldn't feel the Force anymore, hardly at all. It was terrifying. It's like there was - nothing - "

"Do you feel me?" he asked.

"Of course," I said. He was a blaze in all my senses. "You're warm."

"No, my dear, you are very cold." He looked concerned, and put his arms around me. I could feel his warmth, his life; I could see him glowing and strong. It felt good, and I laid my head on his shoulder.

"I'm okay," I said.

"Come, we must go to the Infirmary," he said. He initially gave me an arm to help me to stand, but my legs were too weak to hold me and buckled. Not missing a beat, he scooped me up, cradling me against his broad chest like a child.

"Rest," he said firmly, drawing his warm fingers over my forehead and sending me into a fitful doze. I felt surrounded by his warmth and safe for the first time in days. He put a hand over my heart and gave me more warmth, and I began to shiver.

I seemed to drift in and out of consciousness, and I was dimly aware of him brusquely commandeering an express lift, and soon could feel him striding into the Infirmary. It was late; the lights were dimmed and the whole place was quiet.

"Thank the Gods," Master Bodreau was saying, "where did you find her?"

"On the observation balcony on 24-Thesh level," he said. "She's thin, and badly hypothermic. From what I can tell, she hasn't eaten or slept for at least a week."

"She refused all help," he replied sadly, sounding tired. "Even mine."

"Zeo, you were one of the ones who _refused_ her the truth," he said. "It will take time to regain her trust."

"I am aware of that, Qui-Gon. What else should I have done? Should I have treated her by force?"

There was a silence as Qui-Gon laid me on a bed and wrapped me warmly in a warmed blanket. I began to shiver violently once more, and he gathered me to him gently.

"She is lost," he said. "Riijs - wounded her, more seriously than either of us guessed. I am surprised that she has gone on so long."

"You said it yourself," Master Bodreau replied, sounding downright miserable. "Your bond with her is far deeper than mine, even if she is my Padawan. She hid from me for hours, but you found her when I could not."

"This is not - appropriate," Qui-Gon replied softly.

"Appropriate be damned, Jinn. She is dying."

"No," he said. "She hears us, Zeo."

"Then she must know as well that this bantha-headed stubbornness can kill her," Master Bodreau snapped, impatient as I'd never before heard him. "I would do this, so would Dooku, even Master Yoda - but she will not allow it. She trusts you, Qui-Gon. There are precedents."

"She has not the strength to resist."

"Yet she would sooner die than trust one of us. She is an obstinate woman. The Force has matched you well."

Qui-Gon let out an exasperated breath. "I will do this thing only in private," he said. "It is not a - public event. I will neither be monitored by the Council nor by you."

"As you will," he said. "I know you are trustworthy, Qui-Gon, I will not interfere. And may the Force be with you."

"I'll need it," he muttered.

I knew I was warmed without ill effects, I'd performed the treatment myself once or twice. I was next aware of being put to bed, clean, in a most gentlemanly manner, and wrapped once more in a soft blanket next to him. I was sleepy, and he tucked me against his chest to feel the deep warmth of him. I snuggled. I felt much better already, just being warm and close to someone. He stroked my hair.

"Relax, little one. We will be traveling far tonight, and we must prepare. You must rest."

I was able to nod, and he touched my cheek. "Sleep," he said.

The dreams, though they were not exactly dreams, were odd – I was watching the planes plow into the Two Towers in horror while on vacation for a few days in Manhattan and extending my stay for weeks as a volunteer EMT working at what we came to call Ground Zero, but being able to do nothing, touch nothing, help no one, able only to feel the anguish of the tortured souls around me. In reality, I'd made a beeline for the site and when I showed my EMT license I'd been put straight to work without even having time to change, working in the same clothing for over 72 hours. Now, instead of wanting to wake up and scream as I had every night for almost a year, I could feel Qui-Gon's presence beside me, watching with me as several of us volunteers set up a triage station in a church basement for folks with minor injuries that were beginning to flood out of the lower floors of the Towers.

_They're going to fall. Every time I go to sleep I see them fall again._

_(So many people,)_ he replied. _(So much pain.)_ He put an arm around my shoulder, and he was just there to hear what I had to say. The din and horror receded into the background. _(You must be aware of this now,)_ he continued. (_Experience these events and own the emotions, and then release them to the Force. I am here to help you, Belinda. Breathe. Tell me what you are feeling.)_

_It felt like part of me died as I watched the towers fall. _I felt strange, like there was a limb or part of me regaining feeling as I spoke to him, pins and needles as the circulation came back. _I could suddenly feel waves of the fear and pain, the people dying, and I wondered that I could be alive at all with this horror, chaos and death around me. Is that - weird? I thought I was going out of my mind, but I couldn't just leave. There was work to do, and I could help. I had a tremendous feeling of guilt for not going up into the towers, but I wasn't trained for that. The firefighters, the police were all so brave, and so many of them were killed trying to help the folks come out. I did what I could down here, and I just - stuffed it. Did my job as well as I could. _ I felt tears on my face. Even now the grief was heavy and sharp.

_(You were a great help to the people who survived, and there was nothing else to do after but help the ones who lived, find the ones who did not.)_He pulled me close and I saw myself, treating minor injuries, cleaning up folks who had been burned and bruised by falling debris and ash, and later providing first aid to the workers on site as they performed the heavy, oppressive labor of retrieving what remained.

I nodded. Now I was weeping, as I had not had time or energy to weep at the time. I had been too busy, made myself that way to avoid feeling this horror and the sorrow that went with it.

_I know, but it hurt anyway, like someone had ripped part of me away. I didn't know any of these people, but they were people. I couldn't imagine why it wasn't me. It can't be easy even if you're trained to deal with it._

Suddenly then we were in another place, one I'd never seen but knew to be Roon, watching an explosion of even more giant proportions than the ones that felled the Twin Towers, but much farther away and more deadly. He'd had even less time than I had to consider, to grieve all the people who would most likely die a slow, painful death - he needed to get the children away, as the colonists had immediately decided. I saw him working for days without rest, making sure that the children and their caregivers would be safe at their destination. I wasn't surprised by the tears I saw on his face. I knew there were more on mine, and I wrapped my arms around his waist in silent support, leaned against him and just helped him as much as I could. I didn't need to tell him what he must do, but did my best to support him as he owned the sorrow and anger and feelings of helplessness that echoed my own, and released them. I now understood, saw that by the time he had stumbled into my camp he'd been totally exhausted, half dead with the sorrow and horror, and wounded in body and soul.

_Odd,_ I thought, _that this seemed to be close to my wound as well, and that his healing helped me._ Had mine helped him, too? _Cheap trick, that, I'd have to remember it. Had this brought us together? Had a similar power made the jagged rents in our souls? _I couldn't tell, my wisdom seemed to be notably thin in this area. I was glad, though, that I could help him even in the clumsy way I had.

_(You were anything but clumsy, Belinda,)_ he said, answering my thought kindly. _(Merely inexperienced in the ways of the Force.)_

_And dangerous at that. But it is rather a cheap trick - when you help another, you are yourself healed. I've found it to be true many times, even in my limited experience. I'm grateful that you helped, and glad that the aid didn't go one way. I sense that we have more to see, though. More ghosts of Christmas Past...-- _To his puzzlement I replied, _--It's a story from my world. Remind me to tell you the story of 'A Christmas Carol' sometime._

_(I will. I like your stories, Belinda.)_ He smiled down upon me, and I couldn't help but smile back and squeeze him a bit tighter. He kissed the top of my head with great warmth. He seemed to be less stern and somber here, on the inside. More relaxed.

_Busted, Jinn. You're a softy. Your stories are wonderful too; I'm just beginning to appreciate them. More to the point, tell me what's next, Qui-Gon._

_(Center yourself, stay calm. This is the most important memory for you to experience, and it will be painful. Remember, I will be with you. Do not fear.)_

_Thank you, Qui-Gon. I know this is a long hard journey for you. There's no way I can thank you for this._

_(You may not think so soon, little one,)_ he replied grimly.

It was late afternoon on Coruscant when we landed. The trim little ship had been diverted from its original landing instructions to land on a pad near, not in, the Jedi Temple complex.

"Mace, I understood that we were cleared to land directly in the Temple complex."

"As did I," Mace replied. "We were remotely routed to this landing platform for some reason. I will call and request explanation."

"Very well. I don't like it."

"I agree. We must be cautious," Mace said. I had thought so too, but I stayed quiet while I shielded from the overwhelming press of sentient intelligence that was on the planet. I decided that I'd keep my head down and my wits about me, because the tense sense of readiness seemed contagious. _Let the big boys handle it. _

I could see myself walk out the hatch to the thin cold Coruscant sunlight and everything seemed to revert to my own point of view once more. I could feel the sting of the dart on my throat, and feel the poison enter my system. It wasn't painful at first, though I knew it was serious, knew that this was not a child with a bean shooter. I remembered the dart from the movie. I could feel, now, my heart struggling wildly in fibrillation, feel the bleeding begin from my nose and ears.

_Feel myself dying._

Oddly enough, that hadn't hurt; the mental attack, I found, was what had caused me the pain. It had happened within a few heartbeats; hardly enough time passed for even Qui-Gon to get any detail. But now I could feel him anchoring me, holding me up and out of the reality that I saw there and reassuring me that it was memory and not the present.

_(This is not now. We are not here. You must know what happened and accept it now or be forever crippled by your fragmentation.) _

I saw them send Jax back into the ship and see both 'sabres ignite almost in unison to parry blaster bolts meant to distract them – and then see Qui-Gon whirl to catch me as I fell. He held me to him, using his Mastery of the Living Force to literally _will _my heart to beat, my lungs to breathe.

_He would not let me die. _I could see, now, but was hardly connected to the convulsing near-corpse in his arms. I even thought I heard a harsh noise like a suppressed sob.

I saw Mace and Qui-Gon turn as one and head back into the ship, and Mace took off to go directly to the Infirmary landing pad with no authorization, flight plan, or navicomp, flying by the seat of his Jedi pants. Qui-Gon, still holding a twitching dying body I hardly recognized as mine, leapt out of the little ship as the gangway went down and would not let me go until he had run into the Infirmary and brought me to Master Bodreau, on duty at the time as well.

In the expanded vision I seemed to be granted now, I could see bonds solidifying now between us, and between Master Bodreau and me, like a glowing web. Instinctively I knew that if I had died at that time, what they had done to save me would have cost _their_ lives. I also knew in my bones, because I knew them both, that they hadn't thought even once about it. The Force had told them to do it, and they'd obeyed.

_Well, that answered several of my questions._ They hadn't cloned me to save me, they had cloned me to save _them_. Their own, and their best. For some reason, that helped quite a bit, for me to understand that. There had been complications in the process, and Silloq had been called in to aid in some fancy footwork with suppression of a few inconvenient genetic traits – such as the one that may have given me the ovarian cancer that killed my mother and aunt – and that's how he'd learned of the project. Otherwise, it had been kept on a very confidential footing.

The procedure had taken months, as cloning an adult is far more complex than cloning an infant. At first, during that time, Qui-Gon stayed, perhaps because he had to, and asked the inevitable question -- "Are you sure?" He asked in many ways, and at many times. When it had come to the transfer of personality and memories, Master Dooku had aided with techniques that were in old archives that were associated with the Sith – _know thine enemy indeed_. Had I pushed him farther down the wrong path by my very intrusion upon his existence? _Great, something else to feel guilty about._

_(The choices have been his own,) _Qui-Gon told me. _(I have been concerned about my Master for quite some time. This possibility is – distressing.)_

I'd almost forgotten his steadying presence there, but it didn't feel wrong that he knew of the path his Master might take. It was a relief, that I no longer had to carry the knowledge myself, since Master Yoda didn't seem to be doing much about it.

_Do you understand why I felt I could not tell you – or him? _ I asked.

_(Yes. It is heavy knowledge, especially since you have come to know him and care for him as well. I, too, see what might turn on Master Dooku's decisions, and why the Council may not see fit to interfere.)_

Perhaps because I was bound to physicality, I imagined myself looking up into his face, into the kind blue eyes that seemed so wise, and doing my best to be gentle. _I sense, Qui-Gon, that your Master loves not wisely but too well._

_(Indeed,)_ he replied, looking sad. _(The balance is quite difficult to achieve, as we have discovered. If one so learned and strong in the Force loses balance, the results could be disastrous.)_

_How can I help? _I asked.

_(Perhaps you already have helped. It has been a long time since I've seen him befriend anyone here in the Temple.)_

_He's a fine man, Qui-Gon. It's been an honor and a pleasure unlooked for. It's a rare thing to look into the eyes of one you thought an enemy and find a friend. I feel very fortunate. _

_(He has said the same to me about you,) _he replied. I was flattered by that beyond telling.

Now I could see my original body dying after the procedures had been performed to transfer whatever essence there is to the working body. It was by this time a truly horrifying shell, broken and frail and looking oddly ancient, showing the signs of multiple failures; waxy skin yellow with jaundice, blue lips and fingernails from heart and lung failure, mottled black and red blotches all over, nearly bald.

Of course, I knew that I had to die, it was inevitable, but to see one's own body in that kind of shape – it was profoundly disturbing, not to mention ghastly. I was reminded strongly of my mother's last days, when she'd looked a good deal like it. Then, I could weep, but not much. The suffering was over, at least, for her.

What was left had been cremated quietly in the place they called the Hall of Memory, where many Jedi came after they joined the Force. I was honored by that. Qui-Gon, Mace, and (surprisingly) Jax had attended, along with Master Yoda. The ashes fed the little green plant that Qui-Gon had given me. It was called a Desert Remembrance Plant, and I'd wondered at the name at the time – now I understood.Ghoulish, perhaps, but logical.

_Seems an odd gift. Is it a custom? _I asked, a bit bemused.

_(It is, as a matter of fact. An amazingly cheerful little plant, too.) _He was with me there, and comforting in his presence. _(You are – disturbed.)_

_Well, it isn't every day one sees one's own body die. It'd sure show some folks back home something about the mind/body duality. Too bad I can't go back and thumb my nose at them._

_(Do you wish that?) _He asked, kindly.

I thought about it for a bit, but knew the answer immediately. _To go back? No, not anymore. I will always remember my family and friends, even miss them, but my place is here, I'm sure of it. Whatever, whoever I am now. _

_(You have chosen a difficult path.)_

I shrugged. _I'm not sure 'chosen' is the right term, precisely, unless by chosen you mean that the path chose me. But I've never done anything the easy way. Why start now?_

He chuckled, and hugged me. _(Nor I, my dear.)_ I gratefully drank in his warmth and affection. It seemed that I stood more firmly now, that I was inhabiting whatever was my self more. That was encouraging.

_(The most difficult test is yet to come,) _Qui-Gon reminded me.

I winced. _Right. Well, bring it on, spectre. _

_(I was not present for this, and it is important that I see everything that occurred in this attack. The method by which Riijs attacked you troubles me. Nothing of that sort is taught here at the Temple.) _

_I'm wondering. Would the techniques be accessible in the Archives, or in a Holocron?_

_(Doubtful,) _he replied.

I was delighted that I could now remember the joy of dancing with such kind partners, Mace and Qui-Gon, even Jax and Moss, and Obi-Wan shyly asking me to join his Clan for a line dance. I'd had a good time there, despite myself, until Silloq came to ask me to dance once more.

_(Infinity, Belinda. Has your Master taught you the technique?)_

_We've begun it. Yes._

So now the event went in motion slow enough to see everything, with the strange enhanced vision that the trance state gave. It was not Silloq's physical hand that had hit me, but an oddly glowing astral projection of some sort. Didn't make much difference; I still got a bruise and it hurt, perhaps, even more than his hand would. Then from the breast of his tunic that same astral limb drew a knife that seemed to glow black, to suck all light and warmth around it, like a dark object in an old kinescope. As he made the motion with his hand, he cut me up under the heart, and the feeling I had of bleeding had indeed been real on some level. I could see _something flowing out of me_.

Now, with foreknowledge of the revelation, I could shield my present, watching self from the pain and draining, but I could see him take in the energy like a crackhead on a big hit, his pupils dilating, looking almost like he was having an orgasm. I moved back against Qui-Gon involuntarily, shuddering. It was even creepier than it had been before, it gave me a black oily feeling and a bad taste in my mouth. It hurt, of course, but I felt more grounded and safer as I consciously centered myself. I forced myself to watch closely, allowing Qui-Gon to see through my eyes.

_(He can no longer harm you, Belinda, but this is even more disturbing than I formerly surmised. We must discuss it with my Master, if you can do that.)_

_Qui-Gon, what am I seeing -- ? _Now there was a figure that I could see in outline around Silloq; it was hooded and dark. Ghosts? No, that was too hokey. But I could _feel_ another presence there as Silloq began to laugh. The spectral figure laughed, too, and I recognized the laugh. So did Qui-Gon.

_(It is there, at least on some level. This is very troubling.)_

_Then we'll ask Master Dooku about it if we can. I'm not too happy about it either, Qui-Gon. I was wondering. I didn't think that **Silloq** was that good._

His mouth quirked grimly. _(Yes. Perhaps not. It may explain some very odd behavior we've seen in him.)_

_Odder than usual? That goes some. I think something about him is very dangerous, but I have no objective evidence of that except what he did to me._

_(That's enough, Belinda. You seem to find this easier than the other attacks. Why is this?)_

_I'm not sure, except that I value the truth. Now I know that I don't have to preserve my old identity, but forge a new one, and that's useful. In a very complicated and cruel way, Silloq did me a favor. Don't tell him, though. It would ruin his whole day. I also – for some reason – expected this. I don't know why. I had a bad feeling about the whole idea of going to the Fete, even though some parts of the evening were very pleasant. _I smiled up at him, and he colored a bit.

_(You must rest, little one. You have done well, and this is hard work.)_

_I know, and I also know it wasn't a party for you, either. Thank you._

I could tell he was tired, and I was exhausted myself. I snuggled closer into his arms and this time came up from the trancelike state we were in to open my eyes and look at him in the dim light. He was sleeping, or so I thought, but he nuzzled closer when I turned and kissed his cheek. Then I couldn't do anything but drop off myself, and finally sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

******DISCLAIMER:**** I own nothing of the Star Wars Universe, concept, or characters, and pay homage to the Great Flanneled one for his vast creative powers. I own the characters I have created, as far as they do not infringe upon his rights, or the rights of other writers of material in the Star Wars Universe. No copyright infringement is intended and I do not profit from this work. I'll put them back when I'm done, George, honest.**

It would take a while for me to make amends, as I had been difficult, angry, and sullen during the darkness that had nearly overcome me. I owed many people around me apologies, and it wouldn't be easy to make them. Hardest of all would be the first ones. _Well, no time like the present. Best get on with it._

After feeding me breakfast (I couldn't eat much, but it was good to feel hungry again), and sharing a brief meditation with me, Qui-Gon brought me back to his quarters, where a rather frantic Slan took a look at me and started to cry again. It hurt my heart, and I wept, too, my feelings inescapable. It took me a while to regain my composure. I didn't presume to reach to him, but I took a deep breath and looked him in the eye.

"Slan," I said, "are you okay? I'm really, really sorry for how awful things were, how bad I was. Can you forgive me?"

It took him a little bit to reply, as he visibly considered it.

_/You were sick/ _he said finally. _/Are you better? Did Master Qui help you?/_

"He did. He saved my life. I would have frozen out there... You told him, didn't you?" The epiphany rather astounded me. I was constantly revising my estimate of Slan's intelligence. _"Judge me by my size, do you?" _came to mind. "I'm sorry to make you so worried and sad. You were right, I was very sick and I didn't understand it. Thank you, Slan. Can we be friends again?"

He jumped on my shoulder and nuzzled my neck, purring.

_/Don't do that again, okay?/ _he asked. I wept once more, in relief.

"That's a deal, buddy. I feel really stupid about everything. It will take me a while to get well again, and I'm glad we can be friends. I'm really lucky."

_/Don't cry anymore, not now. I love you. I'll help you./_

"I love you, too, Slan. And it's not always bad to cry, if it helps you feel better." I pulled my handkerchief out of my tunic pocket and wiped both our faces. "Even if we are a mess. You have to tell me if I do anything else that's dumb, okay?"

_/I should have told sooner/ _he said, distressed. _/I should have gone to Master Yan or Master Qui./ _

Auxiliary verbs? Self recrimination? Surprises galore from this little guy today, but he shouldn't feel bad, since he'd likely saved my life.

"No one can know everything, love," I said, scratching him behind the ears and snuggling him up. "I sure didn't, and I should have listened when you told me."

"'Kay!" he replied. _/Did Lyn eat?/ _he asked, evidently so Qui-Gon could hear.

"Not much," came the answer from the next room, where he'd gone to clean up and change. He stepped into the room fastening his belt. "But we'll feed her more later, I promise. She'll have to eat little bits several times a day."

_/Good! Cookies, too./_

"Of course, Slan. Cookies too... come on, I have more apologies to make today. I hope they all go this well. Would you like to come with me, or would you rather stay here?"

_/Come with you, of course!/ _he said.

"Well, then, little one, come along," Qui-Gon said. "We have to get Lyn checked by the Healers, to see if she's all right. Her Master is worried too."

I had a brief thought of protesting, but the looks I got from both of them stopped me in my tracks before I even opened my mouth.

"Of course," I replied, nodding meekly. "Let's get on with it. I expect that Healers make lousy patients here as well as where I come from, but I'll do my best to be civilized."

_/Be good!/ _Slan said, giggling. I smiled back at him.

"I don't think I have any choice." I got up and took Qui-Gon's arm again, feeling a bit unsteady. "I just hope they don't keep me in the Infirmary. I'm feeling a bit weedy now."

"That will pass with some food and rest," Qui-Gon said. "I promised your Master I'd return with you in the morning."

"I know," I said. "I was pretty far out of it, but I heard that much. I'm just a little bit nervous, _that _will pass."

It seemed a long walk to the Infirmary, but that was just because I was out of shape and weak - and dreading the meeting that was inevitable. I'd run myself half to death for those weeks, but with no input to speak of I'd simply destroyed muscle tone and strength. It would take a while to regain them. Now I looked like a card-carrying heroin-chic waif model. _New territory, that._

"I feel so damn _stupid_," I said, as we entered the Infirmary.

"It does no good to obsess over the past. This was totally out of your prior experience. The only thing to do is learn from your errors."

"You're right, of course. I suppose anything else is pointless. I've seldom been _this_ far wrong before, though."

"Nor have we, Padawan," Master Bodreau said, looking tired and worn as he came into the lobby of the Infirmary to meet us. "And we feel our mistakes, too."

"Good morning, Master," I said. I was ready to weep once more as I saw the toll that worry had taken upon him - for once, he looked _old_. I took his hands in mine and bowed the knee to him, raising his hands to my forehead in formal apology. "Master, I have done you and all those around me great wrong. I beg your forgiveness."

There was a brief silence, and he raised me to stand and I actually saw tears in his eyes. Twi'leks do not weep except in times of great emotional distress, and I was shocked and saddened.

"Belinda," he said, "you owe me no apologies, but if you wish to find another Master, I will understand. I have betrayed your trust, and I don't know if you can find it within you to look upon me as your Master. Others have spoken for you. If you wish it, I will release you."

I looked up at him, feeling as though my heart was being squeezed in a vise by his words. I realized what a horrible thing it would be for Obi-Wan to have Qui-Gon suddenly say that he was ready, essentially setting him aside for Anakin. I had come to my apprenticeship as an adult, but I was crushed by the thought of losing a beloved teacher. _How could Obi-Wan bear this hurt from a man he would come to love as a father?_ I could feel the shadow of Qui-Gon's quickly released anger through the touch of his hands to steady me. _He had felt this too, once, and worse. I'd have to find out that story. This can't happen to Obi-Wan. It would be awful, and it might well result in tragedy.** I have to remember.**_

"The mistakes and wrongs of others aren't your responsibility, Master Bodreau. In everything else you've been honest and forthright with me. You even gave me the information needed to deduce the facts, if I'd set my mind to that. We can't allow Silloq to win and destroy all the trust and respect we have built between us. If you're willing to go on, I'll be glad to do so. It has always been a great honor to be your Padawan."

Tears were running down my face, and I felt dizzy at the thought of losing my Master to his own recriminations. I had grown to love him over our time together, and felt instinctively that it would be a very bad idea to change horses in the middle of the ride, at least for us. He gently wiped my tears.

"We can only do our best," he said, finally. "Do not weep, my dear Padawan. I did not mean to upset you, I am sorry for that. Come, I must examine you to determine the effects of your ordeal. It will take time for you to recover."

"So I'm told, but I think all the pieces are here now, even if they're not glued together too tightly."

"Indeed," Qui-Gon said. "Mending that will take time and much work, and we must begin as soon as your physical condition is determined."

_That was a warning shot, not just a hint. _I nodded, and went to the medical bay that Master Bodreau indicated.

_Time to shut up and soldier, Kyle, you got yourself into this. _Master Bodreau looked me over and gave me some medication, which I dutifully took. From Qui-Gon's non-expression I deduced that the formula was familiar to him, and that it wasn't his favorite. He was right; the stuff Master Bodreau gave me was _terrible. _Fitting penance for my foolishness, I supposed.

"Now," Master Bodreau said, as I straightened myself and drank some water after forcing the thick slimy stuff down, "you must rest and eat well so your body can recover, Belinda. You must both undergo evaluation and therapy with the Mind Healers to aid in your efforts at individuation, but for this morning and the rest of the day, you must meditate, rest, and relax as much as possible. I know that it is important that you speak with Master Dooku regarding the attack that Riijs made upon you, but you must avoid strain and distress as much as possible even so, and do something that you enjoy. Perhaps you might take Master Jinn to the Conservatory and play for him."

"That would be wonderful," Qui-Gon said. "I understand you are quite gifted."

"Well, that's exaggerating, but I did study for a long time. We'll do that, Master."

"I will monitor your condition daily until I know you are recovering well," he said. "You did give us quite a fright, Belinda, and I worried for you."

I nodded. "I'm sorry, Master. I hope that I can make amends for the hell I put all of you through, somehow. There's a saying where I'm from - 'the best revenge is living well'. I think that's a good place to start."

He smiled. "Indeed it is, Padawan. We have that saying on Ryloth as well."

Qui-Gon took my arm as we went down the corridor toward the Conservatory. I chattered about the piano and my mother's misguided conviction of my genius as he escorted me, and enjoyed being with him. The thin sunlight warmed me even through the transparisteel windows. I didn't look down.

I was pleasantly surprised to feel quite at home in the rather hectic air of the Conservatory, made boisterous now by a clan of very young Padawans there having a tour. I smiled and found the normally rather sour Master Tildort in his office, looking rather bemused by the chaos.

"Good morning, Master. I know it's not my scheduled time, but is there a practice room free so I might play? I've been prescribed some therapeutic relaxation."

"You have?" he asked, looking a bit nonplussed. "Are you well, Padawan?"

"On the mend, sir, after being very foolish and not taking a grave matter seriously enough - thanks to Master Jinn and Slan, anyway."

"Ah, Master Jinn. It's been a _very_ long time since we've seen you here. And hello, Slan."

"Good day, Master Tildort," he said, looking calm as usual but with a trace of discomfort evident in a rather stiff posture. This was intriguing. "I trust you are well."

"As well as can be expected, certainly," he said. "Belinda, if you're up to it, the instrument in the auditorium has just been tuned and should be played. I'm sure the youngsters of the Dragon clan would enjoy hearing you."

"Why - certainly, Master Tildort, I'd be glad to," I said, feeling a bit doubtful. They seemed a bit young for classical music, but I reminded myself that these were no ordinary children. "Is that all right with you, Master Jinn?" I asked.

He smiled. "Of course, I'm sure it will be delightful. Thank you, Master Tildort."

"You're most welcome - and thank you, Belinda."

I bowed, and we went off to the auditorium. The instrument was beautiful, and the size of a large concert grand. Since form so often follows function, it looked much the same, except that the case itself was intricately carved perfectly black wood, decorated with gold and silver inlay and so fine-grained that it was as deeply glossy as lacquer. I opened the top and warmed up with scales and exercises. I was happy that my musical touch had returned. It had left me along with my sense of the Force, days before.

"What kind of music do you like?" I asked Qui-Gon, who sat next to me on the bench, seemingly enjoying himself.

"I expect I'll like anything you play," he said. "I assume that those were warm-up exercises?"

"Yes, scales and exercises written by a man named Czerny, about a hundred fifty years ago where I came from. Boring, but very effective. Maybe I should stick with the classics, at least I'll give a good impression. Let me see if I can get into the correct frame of mind to remember..."

I played a few little Etudes and Preludes as I slipped into the relaxed state that I usually entered when I played. The little Padawans filed in and I looked up to see them watching raptly. I was astounded - the children were no more than three or four at the most. They were tiny and darling, of diverse races but open and happy children.

"Good morning, Padawans. You are good listeners," I said. "I'm Belinda, I'm a Padawan in the Healers' Wing. This is Master Jinn, and this is Slan."

They all said hello, politely. Qui-Gon nodded and smiled, and they laughed when Slan came and bowed to them.

"What's that?" one of them asked, indicating Slan.

"Slan is my friend, we met before I came here. He is a Peroota Cat."

"Oh. He's pretty."

"Why, he knows that, I hope. Thank you on his behalf, if he doesn't tell you directly. Would you like me to play some more?"

"Yes," they all said. They even seemed eager, I was flattered. I had a sudden bright idea, and I played a lively little piece, Debussy's first Arabesque.

Suddenly there were eight little pirouetting forms on the stage, little sparks of joy as they giggled and moved around to the music. I couldn't help but laugh with them, and went on to play as many sprightly little tunes as I could remember, delighted with the response. They'd at least take a good nap that day, if nothing else. Slan danced, too, which made them giggle more. It was a welcome relief from the wretchedness of the past weeks, and all of us enjoyed the interlude. When I stopped, they clapped. I got up and bowed.

"Thank you very much, Padawans, I enjoyed playing for such an enthusiastic audience. You are wonderful dancers." The Matrons gathered them together and they bowed back, and thanked me for playing. I felt downright goofy, and had to consciously come back to center after they left.

"Extraordinary," Qui-Gon said softly, as I caught my breath.

"Hm? They're wonderful children, it was a joy to play for them," I replied.

"No, you," he said. "You are also a _projective_ empath, at least where music is concerned."

"What? When I perform, I pay attention to the audience and see what they like if my program isn't set. I got a brainwave from the children, that they liked to dance, so I played dances." I replied. "I'll take your word for it, since you were right the first time. Any real performer must have that talent, to some extent, and a Healer without empathy wouldn't be much use."

"Projective empathy is not a common gift," he said. "Tests are not administered for many of the less common talents anymore."

"Well, the Order does have a rather full plate right now," I said. "I certainly got more from those little ones than I could ever give. I just hope - I hope I didn't harm them." I was suddenly dismayed.

"No, do not be distressed," he said, putting his hand on my shoulder. "No harm was done, and they enjoyed the concert at least as much as you did. I expect at least one or two of them will wish to learn to play from your example."

"Can't hurt, I'd guess... so, what else was I not tested for?"

"There are many unusual talents that might be present. Over the centuries, there have been Masters of many types of Force talents. My Master might be able to tell you about them, as would many of the members of the Council of First Knowledge. Perhaps you should speak to them about it. Did you have other empathic talents?"

I shrugged. "My grandmother taught me how to sing and play the fiddle, harp, and guitar, and a lot about how to read people, to read Tarot cards. I could get impressions from objects, too, sometimes."

"Ah," he said. "I suspected as much. It would answer many questions I have about the experiences that I saw."

"I'd be willing to be tested, if they want to experiment - at least eventually. I'd certainly learn a few things. I wonder, though - has the Order become like the Procrustean bed?" I said thoughtfully, almost to myself.

"Is that another one of the stories of your world?" he asked.

"Oh, yes, sorry - let me see if I recollect it... Once there was a bandit who lived at a mountain pass. All the travelers who used that road were compelled to spend the night in his iron bed, and he made all of them fit it perfectly - if they were too short, he stretched them until they died. If they were too tall, he cut off their limbs. He was finally slain by a great hero, Theseus, who brought his bones back to the oracle at Delphi - I think I told you about that - and a temple was built over them, as a sanctuary for escaped slaves."

"A most vivid metaphor," he said. "And perhaps more apt than we would care to admit. Much of the knowledge of the Order is lost to us, as we have grown more insular and more entangled with the Senate and other parts of the Republic. We exist to serve, but perhaps our focus has narrowed so much that we have lost the target."

"Seems sad. In my reading I found that it used to be that anyone could come to study with the Jedi, to develop their potential as they could, and many people of all sorts did so. Now, folks can hardly get inside the Temple if it's not to visit the Healers or do something like deliver goods or provide services. People tend to fear what they don't know, it must be difficult."

"You are perceptive, Belinda," he said.

"One of the reasons the Healers wear street clothing when they work in the outreach clinics is that the very people they aim to help are terrified of the Jedi. They can't call them what they are, or people wouldn't come. They're just clinics, even though they're run, funded, and staffed by the Temple."

He nodded. "I am not surprised. Have you done any work in these clinics?"

"I had a brief rotation for a month before - well, before the Fete. I enjoyed it, I'd done a lot of work like that before we met. I think they expected me to be shocked," I said. "Truth be told, it was the most familiar thing I'd done since I've been here."

"A bit of hazing?" he asked.

"I didn't pay it much mind," I said. "I was too busy taking care of things. No point in complaining. I think Master Bodreau found it amusing."

"I expect he did. You are full of surprises for your Master, and he enjoys that."

"Good thing, but there are times that I think that if he _had_ hair, he would have pulled it out by now. My education has holes in it you could drive a herd of banthas through, and I've had to be instructed in the simplest cultural things."

"That most likely frustrates you much more than him," he said.

"No doubt," I replied. "I'm frustrated enough for both of us when it's an issue. But I do know an inner city low income clinic when I see one. Even if the people look different, they're still worried about their families and their jobs and how they're going to survive, one way or another. Take folks one at a time and treat them with the respect they need and deserve, and you can get the job done."

"Eminently practical," he said. "I can imagine that you were very effective."

"I did what I could. I have a tendency to become involved, but that's always been true. I need to be a bit more objective." I sighed. "Maybe if I get the balancing act right... "

"Balance is not an _act, _Belinda," Qui-Gon said. "It is a part of yourself."

"It's been so long since I've been whole, if I ever was," I said, "that I'll have to learn that from the beginning. Music has always been a way to let everything find its place. Master Bodreau knows that, I'm sure that's why he sent us here."

"It does have a powerful effect upon you," he replied. "We must work on your shielding once more, and certainly your sense of wholeness and identity. The metaphor is rather apt, however."

I shrugged. "It serves. The music isn't the main thing, of course, the state of mind is. You taught me to get to that place without the music, and I'll have to learn that again. I hope I won't be quite so dense this time."

"I am sure not," he said, kindly. "How do you feel?"

"Hungry - what a surprise. But quite well otherwise, just a little weak. I think the supplement did me some good, even if it is nasty."

"It certainly is," he said. "I know a suitable substitute that you might like a bit more, we will order it for you. Let's get you something to eat."

After a bit of negotiation with the Commissary manager, he got me a supplement drink that, though it was entirely the wrong color (teal blue), tasted quite a bit like a malted. He assured me that it was entirely suitable for my needs, and I drank it. I decided I didn't want to know where it came from - at least not right away.

"I assure you, it's nothing horrible or disgusting," he said. "I started drinking them when I was thirteen because I grew so quickly."

"Well, I'm not surprised at that, you're a big man," I said. "It must have been a relief to be apprenticed to a Knight who was almost as tall as you would be." I had thought it was to help in training, but it seemed I was wrong.

"There were many reasons that I was happy to leave Master Yoda's tutelage for Master Dooku," he replied. He seemed diffident about it.

"You were _Master Yoda's_ apprentice?" I asked incredulously, then wanted to kick myself. "Oh, no, Qui-Gon, I didn't mean to pry," I continued, at his momentarily stiffened posture. "I'm sorry. I know that you've had a whole life that doesn't include me, and it's your own concern. If we're going to get through this, we have to respect each others' privacy, and I didn't mean to presume."

He took my hand gently. "You did nothing of the sort," he replied. "It was a difficult period of my life, and it was indeed a relief to have a Master that understood me and could teach me the lessons I needed to learn."

"Well, I still ought to learn when to keep my mouth shut. Childhood is different here, isn't it? At least in the Order, children have real and important work to do, using their gifts to help people. It must be a good way to grow up."

"There are many worse," he said, with a smile. "Master Dooku allowed me to grow, and did not try to carve me up to fit the bed you described so aptly before. He allowed me to find out who I was and be that man, and find how to best serve in my own way."

"I expect he learned just as much from you," I replied. "I'm sure you were quite a formidable team."

"I don't recall feeling very formidable," he said, with a smile. "Mostly I recall that my clothes never fit and I was all elbows and knees."

I chuckled. "Ah hah. That's where you learned tailoring."

"Yes," he replied. "We finally compromised on obtaining tunics a size or two large, taking tucks, and letting them out as I grew. At least I didn't _always_ resemble a ragamuffin - only after a month or two."

"Beats nothing, I guess. My growth came a bit earlier, I practically woke up one day having developed into a visibly female person from a child. _Everything_ hurt, for months, and I was the first girl in my school class to develop. It was a very difficult year."

He nodded. "I wasn't around children my own age much after I was twelve or thirteen. I think I was better off."

"You had a good friend and mentor in your Master. What's not to like? It may not have been the easiest way to grow up, but, as you say, it certainly wasn't the worst. Now. What are your plans? Do you have anything to do?"

"I'm doing it," he averred, with a smile. "The effects of our journey are profound for both of us, Belinda. It will take time for us to untangle ourselves."

"Well, at least the company is pleasant," I said, smiling up at him. "I hope you find it so."

"Oh, very," he replied gallantly. He kissed my hand and I colored. "Come along, we are going to visit my Master for lunch. I am still quite disturbed about the actions of Padawan Riijs, and I lack knowledge of these things."

"Of course," I replied. "That's necessary, as soon as possible. Thank you for arranging it, I appreciate that. Come on, Slan, we're going to see Master Dooku now."

_/Master Yan? Good!/_

"Looks like he's got a fan club," I said. "We'll have to tell him."

Qui-Gon smiled and took my arm - either to support me when I faltered or to ensure that I didn't have any second thoughts. I had grown quite fond of Master Dooku, though. He was refreshingly direct and honest, and would have no truck with self-recrimination or any form of whining. I quite looked forward to seeing him.

When we got to his quarters, he smiled to greet us, charming and kind. "Good day, Padawan," he said, taking my hand. "I am glad to see you on the mend."

"Thanks to Qui-Gon and Slan. I must admit to feeling like the southbound end of a northbound bantha, but I am fortunate to be blessed by good friends. I'm very sorry if I caused you any distress, Master Dooku. It was foolish of me to ignore the warnings of those wiser than I."

"Learning experiences are often unpleasant, or else they would not remain. Qui-Gon tells me that you were far more seriously wounded than any of us guessed, Belinda. We are most fortunate to have you with us at all. Come in, have some lunch, and then you must tell me about what happened if you can."

"Of course, sir. Thank you."

He had put out a lovely lunch, and we ate at a leisurely pace, speaking of their last missions and minor pleasantries. He even had cookies for Slan, and to please him, I ate one. It seemed to make him happy.

Qui-Gon told him about the impromptu concert I'd given for the little Padawans and for him, and I found that Master Dooku favored an instrument very like a harpsichord himself, and he played beautifully. He bore such a resemblance to Christopher Lee that it gave me a momentary flash of some old horror movie, but I was delighted by the grace and delicacy of his playing. It wasn't a surprise; I had, after all, seen him with a lightsabre, and handling a few potentially bad situations with a sure touch.

"There is much in music to teach a diplomat," he said, when I complimented him. "Timing, expression, and a certain tact. Qui-Gon objected at first to learning to sing, but it stood him in good stead many times while we were together."

_Oh __**ho.**_

Master Dooku smiled at his Padawan fondly, and I managed a straight face while Qui-Gon colored just the smallest bit. I suddenly had the sensation that I was at "tea with Mum" and being shown the bearskin photos, then I smiled too.

"So _that's_ where you learned. You do sing beautifully, something must have taken despite your best efforts. I somehow didn't have you pegged as the art-song type, though."

He chuckled, now knowing I was teasing him.

"Nor am I, certainly," he said. "I do admit, now, that it is a useful skill."

We had some tea after lunch, and Master Dooku brought up the subject at hand.

"I have to admit," I said, when he questioned me about the attack, "that I had no idea what Silloq had actually done and how serious the wound was, even though I felt its effects immediately. Add to that the fact that I wasn't happy at the deception, and I was in quite a state when you visited me after the incident."

"You've a talent for understatement, Belinda," he said, a sad smile in his eyes. "I felt your distress even though we are merely good friends. Your Master was terribly upset as well. But I am more interested in your perception of the events of that evening."

I nodded. "I'll tell you anything I can recall, then, of course. Qui-Gon, please feel free to contribute anything that I might miss or forget."

So, I gave him the entire story, along with my perception that there was someone else in control, at least during part of the attack, and who it was. After my own account and Qui-Gon's observations, I saw sadness in Master Dooku's eyes once more.

"I'm sorry to be the bearer of such tidings, Master. There is always the possibility that I'm wrong. I do know, however, that Silloq was a more or less willing participant in the whole thing."

"It would have done him grave injury to have been forced into that position. This method is one of the most powerful tools of the Sith, and I am surprised that Xanatos has mastered it so quickly."

"Well, Master, from what I know of him, Xanatos is manipulative and shrewd to begin with. It might have come more or less naturally to him, and he may have gotten a kick out of the power. Perhaps 'mastered' is too strong a term as well. Remember, he betrayed himself when we looked back upon the incident. I'm wondering if he was rash and tried a technique that he wasn't really ready to use."

"That is a possibility," Qui-Gon said. "Power over others was always an aim of his, and overconfidence a trait I often had to discourage."

"I also think, looking back on it," I said, "that the attack wasn't _really _aimed at me at all, but at you, Qui-Gon. I was just a convenient tool."

"How do you come to that conclusion?" Master Dooku asked, raising an elegant eyebrow.

"Well, I did spook Xanatos a bit. He knows that I'm one of those strays that Qui-Gon has adopted. He didn't dare try to hurt Qui-Gon directly, but he was able to get to him through me. It worked fairly well, too."

"Yes," Master Dooku replied, still sad. "I am forced to agree. Riijs, however, bears a grudge against you, so his attack was certainly on you."

"Yes, he's got rather a grand passion for Qui-Gon. That may have been the way Xanatos got to him."

Qui-Gon looked uncomfortably nonplussed for a moment. "I'd no idea," he said.

I shrugged. "You do recall that he had a few choice words about my worthiness for you and my overall usefulness. That and the fact that I was cloned evidently were enough to set his mind against me from the start."

"His culture would not allow him to be favorably disposed toward you under any circumstances. It is unfortunate that he was not identified much earlier," Master Dooku added.

"Silloq really does have talent in healing, and there is good in him, I've seen that. He brought out the worst in me, and I often didn't keep my mouth shut when I should have. Qui-Gon tells me that he has been behaving oddly over the past weeks - is there any indication that he's under some sort of compulsion?"

"That is a good question, Padawan, and we must observe him and consider all possibilities," he replied. "I am very troubled by the idea that we could have such an intruder in our midst, even more than at the idea that Riijs could have attacked you on his own."

"Well, then, the Council will just have to accept that there may actually _be_ a Sith out there, hmm?" I asked. "I don't think that they believe it yet, even though I've told Master Yoda as well. They _certainly_ don't take the possibility seriously."

"No, they don't," he replied, sadly. "It makes us vulnerable."

"And keeps us that way, too. Now we must assume that Xanatos is involved with whoever this is, since he mentioned having a Master, and I pray that there aren't more Sith running around. But Master, he's leaving tracks. I thought that the Dark Side is _hard_ to see."

"It is, when it isn't being overconfident. It almost seems that both sides are being arrogant," Master Dooku said.

"I would think that Riijs is a feint," Qui-Gon said thoughtfully. "Neither Xanatos nor his Master will be able to use him again, not inside the Temple, and we're not likely to let him go away soon. Xanatos could well have gotten updated knowledge of the Temple from Riijs. I'd also assume that_ they _know that we're aware of the breach of security."

"Does he think that we'll take this on face value and sigh in relief or something?" I shook my head. "It's a thorny problem."

"You ask good questions, Belinda. Perhaps we can answer some of them, given time and investigation," Master Dooku replied.

"I doubt we have much time, Master, given that he'd be aware that _we_ know." I said. "Gosh, I'm getting dizzy. I didn't know I could think so much in this state."

They both chuckled. "You most likely need a rest," Master Dooku said. "I fear that we have asked too much of you."

"No, this is important, Master, and I would have asked to come to you anyway if Qui-Gon hadn't thought to arrange this. I appreciate your time. You've always been most generous with me. Thank you."

He looked a bit surprised, but, I thought, pleased as well. "I am glad to have eased your mind, Belinda."

"You have, and I appreciate that, too. If there's anything else I can do, please let me know. Thank you for lunch and your lovely playing. I very much enjoyed both."

"Why, thank _you. _For now, I am sure that rest is what you need. We will speak more when you are feeling stronger, Padawan."

"Certainly. Good afternoon, Master."

Qui-Gon bid his Master farewell, and I was really drooping by the time we got to his quarters. He looked tired, too, and I wasn't surprised - I suspected he'd been funneling energy to me during our conversation with Master Dooku, since it was so very important that he know what had really happened. He fed me another supplement - this one was tasted flowery and quite pleasant - and next thing I knew he was frog-marching me to bed, settling down behind me to warm me and to get a rest himself. I snuggled happily against his chest with Slan on my shoulder purring. I knew when I was well off.

The sleep was deep and I didn't remember the dreams as being unpleasant, which was certainly an improvement. I awoke alone, with Slan poking my neck with a cool nose.

_/Dinnertime, sleepyhead/_ he told me. I was a bit disoriented, and sat up to see that I was wrapped in a warm gray blanket... but it wasn't a blanket. It had a hole in it, it was a poncho.

_A poncho? Oh, no, __**that **__poncho? _I jumped, and had a hard time collecting myself, shaking as I recalled the stakes. It disturbed me enough that Qui-Gon poked his head in.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"Oh, I'm okay. Just a bit disoriented, startled." The truth, from a certain point of view. "I have to run a quick errand, excuse me. All that tea."

"Of course," he smiled, indicating the 'fresher. "Dinner is here, don't take long."

I looked around when I got there, curious to see how it reflected him. There was an orange and yellow plant sharing the shower stall happily, and another little flowering plant in the corner. The scent of his toiletries was pleasant, woody and crisp, and a small box held hair ties and the clip I'd given him. I washed up and came out to see a lovely dinner set out, and the little repulsorlift droid that had brought it from the dining room. Hmm. RHIP. He was sitting drinking a mug of juice when I came in, and I put a hand on his shoulder.

"And here I thought you'd cooked," I said, with a smile.

"You are fortunate that I sent to the Commissary. I'm not much of a chef."

"Well, thank you," I said. "How long am I going to need a babysitter this time?"

He put an arm around me. "You mustn't think of it like that. You were wounded badly, almost killed, or worse."

I took a deep breath. "I suppose that a Healer turned to the Dark Side would be very dangerous. I appreciate the help more than I can tell you." I hugged him.

"It is a fearsome proposition. We came close to losing you. I am happy to have done what I could."

I dropped a kiss on his forehead and sat down to eat.

Over the next weeks we completed a rigorous course of meditation sessions, at first twice per day, then once, and then lowering in frequency as we could tolerate. As time passed, we began to process the memories, knowledge, and feelings that the voyage of discovery had brought. For a couple of weeks I followed Qui-Gon around like a baby duckling, because I couldn't tolerate being separated from him. He was placed on a teaching rotation at the Temple for that time, and he helped Master Plo in his duties as swordmaster. I very much enjoyed watching him teach the children. He was gifted with them, and helped them learn and grow with such delight that they couldn't help but catch it. I could feel _his_ enjoyment, and also sense the rapport that began with little Obi-Wan Kenobi as he taught the Tiger Clan a kata.

"A gifted teacher, Qui-Gon is," Master Yoda said, entering the observation room behind me.

"Yes," I said, standing and bowing. Slan bowed, too, which brought a smile to Master Yoda's face. "He really enjoys the children, and they love him. Good morning, Master Yoda. You look well."

"Hmmf," he grumbled. "Well enough, I am, Belinda. And you?"

"On the mend, Master, with occasional fits of feeling like a total fool," I replied.

"Beyond your experience, it was," he said, looking at me closely. I had the sudden sense of being on trial.

"Certainly, Master, but I've learned that my prior experiences are all but irrelevant here. I was warned by people I trusted. I'll try not to make the mistake twice."

"There is no try," he said, whacking me with that damn stick. He reminded me of a Zen Master; in a way I supposed he was. "There is only do, or do not."

"Then, Master Yoda, I have no intention to _do_ any such thing again," I said, bowing once more.

"Indeed, Padawan, understandable, that is. Stronger, you are now."

"Now? I don't know. Eventually, I suppose I will be. I don't know," I said. "I can just put one foot in front of the other and do my best."

He chuckled. "Yes," he replied, and shifted the subject quickly. "With young Kenobi Qui-Gon works well."

"Certainly, Master. They seem to complement each other, as I recall you saying."

"Spoken to me, Qui-Gon has, about him."

"Really? That's wonderful," I said, delighted. "More than I had hoped."

"Doubts himself, he does. Correct, he could be." He paused. "Perhaps young Obi-Wan for him is_ not _good."

"Master, why is it that you come to me about this? Your Padawan's Padawan is the man in question."

"To me he does not listen," he said. "Perhaps to you he will."

"If the Force tells him something, it is most likely right," I said. "That is what you would say, certainly. Master Yoda, have you thought to ask the Force what the future may hold if Qui-Gon does _not_ take Obi-Wan as a Padawan?"

"Hmmf," he grumbled again. "Presumptuous, you are, Padawan."

"I am, at times, Master. The question remains, though I meant no offense."

There was a short silence. "Your words I will consider," he said, finally. "To speak your mind you are unafraid."

"I do when I must," I replied.

"This outcome you have foreseen," he said.

I shook my head. "The future is not my province, Master," I said. "I have enough trouble keeping my focus on the here and now. I told you long ago all I know of one _possible_ future. To say anything else would truly be presumptuous of me. I can only ask what questions I can when I feel it's necessary."

"Trust the Council you do not," he said, changing tack quickly.

"No, that is not so, Master," I replied. I looked him dead in the eye and held his gaze as he pushed at me. I held my ground as well as I could. I didn't try to deceive him. I respected his wisdom, his incredible experience and life, and his vast perspective. I was even fond of him - he was kind and wise and had a wickedly droll sense of humor that I'd seen and appreciated. That didn't mean I trusted him, though. His agenda was unknown to me. He swung the boom again.

"The Living Force you hear very strongly," he said. "As your Master does."

"I am a Healer," I said. "It's all I've ever wanted to do, and I'm overjoyed to do it. I'm hoping to be allowed to resume my duties soon, and _not _need a keeper anymore."

He chuckled. "With me you joke, Padawan?"

"Certainly not, Master, it's the truth. Thankfully, I'm told that I'll be out of Qui-Gon's pockets soon. I'm sure he's needed. I'll miss him, but I'm used to having my head to myself. It works better that way, and I need all the help I can get."

"A serious mind you must have, Padawan."

"I do, but I can't take myself too seriously, Master. There's no percentage in it. "

He chuckled. "And know who you are, do you?"

I shrugged. "I am who I am, Master. In an odd, backhanded way, Silloq did me a favor. He showed me that my identity must come from who I am, not what I do. I'd become only what I did, because it was easier than dealing with the bad memories and feelings."

"Told me, Qui-Gon did, about the memories you have. Difficult it is to carry on in such a disaster. You did."

"I did my best, I had no choice. Now, I'm doing my best to use this opportunity you have given me. I am not the same person I was when I came to this place, but who among us is unchanged day to day? Master Yoda, my mother sentenced herself to a lingering, painful death so that I might be born. Here I was given life at least in part so that _others_ might live. I have to admit that the second option seems better."

"Saw your mother die, you did," he said softly, after a moment. I wondered how he could know that, but I wasn't too surprised.

"They didn't want to let me stay, but I refused to budge," I said. "I stayed with her till the end, and my father couldn't. I thought then that holding her hand was only for me, but I hope I eased her passing. When she let go, it was healing, I could feel that. My father wasn't there, he couldn't understand. He never forgave me."

"Shamed him, you did," he said.

"Perhaps. He never forgave me for living when she died, for daring to go on when we had lost her. He preferred to nurse his grief rather than move on and be grateful for the time they had." I sighed. "I had some closure, but he didn't allow himself that. I pray that someday he will."

"Think of your family often, you do."

"Certainly, Master. They are part of my past. It's not a good idea to live there, but it's not good to forget, either."

"To return, do you wish?"

"No, Master Yoda. I doubt if I ever shall. It's obvious that my place is here, now. I have good work to do, things to learn, and even friends. This is such an extraordinary place for a xenophile. There are marvels I never could have imagined."

"Yes," he said, with a smile. After a pause where I felt him probing me gently, he continued. "To your duties you may return, Padawan, as soon as ready you feel."

"Thank you, Master Yoda. I appreciate your confidence."

"May the Force be with you, young Padawan," he said, taking my hand, then turning to leave.

"And with you, Master Yoda. Good afternoon."

I sighed in relief. I guess I'd passed some kind of test, but damned if I could figure it out. However, Master Bodreau had told me he would want to speak with me before I'd be cleared to return to duty. Thank the stars it had gone well.

After another week I was judged fit to resume my duties as Padawan on a limited basis, with time off for treatment and therapy as the Healers deemed necessary. I felt better doing what I loved, and did it more mindfully as the pieces began to drop into place. It seemed still more like walking a tightrope than anything else in my experience - or maybe a knife's edge.

A month later, I was finishing lunch when I saw Qui-Gon sweep into the Commissary where I sat, looking for me. He dropped a hand on my shoulder as I stood to greet him.

"Hello, it's good to see you. Have you eaten?"

"Yes. I must speak with you," he said, without preamble.

"Of course," I replied. I brought my dishes to the window and followed him to a quiet meditation garden a short distance away.

"I have received a mission from the Council today," he said. "My transport leaves in a few hours."

"I see," I said. "I've been waiting for this. The Republic needs you, after all. The Council has been more generous than I gave them credit for. That'll teach me."

"No, your assessment is shrewd. Your Master and I argued for more time," he said. "You must think them foolish."

"Of course not. I don't understand their philosophy about people, and it seems an awful lot like they were afraid of what happened to us, what happened to me. I suppose it makes me a heretic, or unlearned, or both."

He gathered me into a long arm, and I leaned my head against him as we sat on a bench near a fountain quietly. It was comforting, even after all the gyrations we'd gone through to separate ourselves. It was pleasant, too, and that hadn't changed.

"I admire what you did for Riijs," he said, shifting the subject slightly. "I do not know if I could have done the same."

I was startled. I looked up at him and rubbed the spot on my palm left by the Force not a week before. It was about the size of a quarter, shaped like a rayed star with seven points, mirrored on my other hand. It had been a truly incredible experience, like growing up years in a matter of a few brief seconds. I'd had to realize that it wasn't Silloq the adult that I could help to save, but a lonely misfit child who had no place, who had been ripe to be fooled by the lies of evil. I'd had to yield my _self_ to the superior will that I couldn't comprehend, and hope he could use this chance. Even now, I could hardly believe it. Enough to make me get religion.

"Admire? How so? Does one admire a puppet when it does a trick?" I asked.

He raised an eyebrow, seemingly puzzled. It was silly, I reminded myself, to assume that he knew what had happened. We'd spent months separating from each other, he wouldn't just _know._

"Qui-Gon, I was picked up and moved by the Force, and I only pray that it was the Light. I had no more choice than a marionette."

"No," he said. "That is not true. You could have refused, and allowed him to die. There is always that choice."

I shook my head. "No. Who am I to argue the Will of the Force? I swore an oath to preserve life long before I came here. I won't be forsworn for the likes of Silloq, and I won't yield my honour to the machinations of evil short of my death."

"No one else sees it so, including me." He took my hands and faced me, smiling. My heart turned over. _Damn. I was still a sucker for the man. Back to square one. _

I sighed. "I know differently," I said, shrugging. "Besides," I continued after a moment, "As a wiser man than I once said, 'many deserve death, but many who die deserve life.' I cannot give it to them. Maybe Silloq deserved to die, but he wasn't going to do it on _my_ watch. I'm not sure I did him a favor. Now he has to deal with the consequences of what he's done, and they aren't going to be pleasant. I truly wish him no harm. Xanatos had him fooled. He's fooled better."

"Indeed he has," Qui-Gon replied. "Either way, it was well done, and certainly a surprise for the Council."

"That's not my problem. I did what I had to do, and I've done with him. I just hope he's done with me." It had been a memorable Council session, and I had the idea that they didn't quite know what to do with _me _now. Again, not my problem, really. They'd figure out something, they were the big boys. I just went back to work. _Belinda, the human cardioversion electrode and exorcist, at your service._

He smiled. "You can be fairly sure of that, at least for a while. He will be sent to a Jedi enclave off-planet to recover, and after that he will be evaluated to see if he is suitable to continue in the Order. If he is not, measures will be taken to ensure he will pose no further danger to others."

I felt a chill at that idea, and at the thought that he was going to be taken on a such a trip while he was still so vulnerable.

"What? They're taking him _off planet?_" I asked. "His life won't be worth a plugged nickel. The poor man has been through the seven hells twice and now they're hanging him out as _bait?_ Hasn't he suffered enough?"

"Perhaps so," he said, quirking that maddening smile. "You might speak to your Master about it."

"I certainly will. Thank you for telling me." It took a deep breath to calm myself, I seemed to be getting better at that. "And you - how are you feeling about all this?"

"I am well," he said. "I'm still considering many things that we have shared during this time."

"Enough of those, and more still come up occasionally. We've had the time we need. I can't ask for more than that."

"Nor can I."

"Will you be allowed to send me messages?" I asked. "Postcards?"

He smiled. "Perhaps," he said. "If time allows. I will if I can."

I nodded. "Fair enough," I replied. "Now, is there anything we must do? We haven't been far apart yet."

"We should share meditation," he said.

I nodded. "Now, why did I know you would say that?" I asked with a smile, twigging him a bit.

He chuckled and took my hands, and I settled on my heels facing him, as we had on the first evening after he'd pulled me out of what I'd come to think of as the Grand Garbage Loop. In that session we'd separated enough to sleep alone, though he'd still spent several nights on my sofa. I followed his lead as more of the connections were attenuated. They were _not_ broken, but made gentler. Although there was a change, I was still his friend, and eventually maybe more. I gladly released him to his own life, and he to mine. He looked me in the eyes as we rose from trance, and leaned forward, embraced me, and kissed my forehead.

"Be well," he said, as I leaned my head on his shoulder, absorbing the warmth for when he would not be there with me. I had a hard time stopping tears.

"I'm doing my best," I replied hoarsely. "You, too. Come back soon. May the Force be with you, Qui-Gon."

He took my hand and kissed the small mark on the palm, a very tender gesture that touched me to the heart. I caressed his cheek just to feel his warmth, and he closed his eyes for a moment, leaning his head on my palm.

"It is with you," he said softly. "Farewell." He smiled and bowed his head when he let me go, and strode off, taking my heart with him.


End file.
